A/N: Thank you guest Loreley for reviewing again! :)

Chapter 10

Castiel drifted in a cocoon of warmth, lulled by a soft, soothing melody and the gentle sensation of fingers lightly carding through his hair. He almost didn't want to leave this half-dozing state, but bit by bit, awareness sharpened until he opened his eyes to see Ryn's face above him as she stroked his brow.

She smiled. "Hey."

"Cas?" another voice instantly perked up, and then there were two more faces crowding over him, both of them looking extremely worried. "Hey," Dean continued, a tenor of anxiety in his tone. "How you feeling?"

Castiel turned his head toward Ryn where she lay beside him, and reached out a hand to lay over her swollen belly. "I hear her," he marveled.

Ryn covered his hand with hers. "Yeah?"

Castiel closed his eyes and extended a tendril of his grace. A lilting high note of joy sang in response, and twined around him. It was so warm and bright, and pure.

"She's beautiful," he said, opening his eyes again.

Ryn was beaming like the sun. "I know."

Dean cleared his throat. "So…" His lips quirked with a barely contained grin. "You're having a daughter, huh, Cas?"

Castiel felt something warm fizzle deep within his chest, beyond all measure of belief and imagination, because yes, he was. And he found himself smiling back at them all.

"How are you feeling, Cas?" Sam asked, repeating Dean's earlier question.

Castiel reluctantly withdrew that thread of grace and turned his focus inward. He felt…remarkably in one piece, albeit very heavy and exhausted, but he knew that he should have been in much worse shape. "Sore," he said. "How long have I been out?"

"Four days, off and on," Dean replied. "You don't remember?"

He furrowed his brow. "No." He tracked his gaze around the oddly medieval styled room then, frowning. "Where are we?"

"Um, Crowley's lair," Sam said.

Castiel's brows shot upward incredulously. "What?"

"It was the only place safe from angels we could think of," Dean added with a trace of embittered irony.

Castiel had no idea what to make of that. Sure, Crowley had been an ally in the past…but he was helping to hide them from Heaven, in his own personal lair?

"If you were waiting for me to recover, I can manage now," he said, propping himself up on his elbows, though it caused a faint twinge in his muscles. Castiel pushed the discomfort down.

Dean held a hand up. "No, Cas, we're not leaving any time soon. This place is warded better than the bunker, and for one thing, the angels don't know about it."

Castiel's heart clenched with grief. The bunker wasn't home to just the Winchesters, and he mourned it being compromised as much as he did for Sam and Dean's loss. "What- what's the plan?" he asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged a pained look, and Castiel felt a pit get carved out in his stomach. But then Dean schooled his expression and nodded to him.

"The plan is for you to rest some more and get your strength back. We can stay here as long as we need to."

Castiel heard what Dean was actually saying, though—they didn't have a plan…and they didn't have anywhere else to go.

Crowley was a surprisingly gracious host, providing three hearty meals a day for Ryn and the Winchesters, and even tailoring the food to them individually. Ryn always received portions of nutritional value, while Dean often found take-out burgers delivered outside his door.

Castiel stayed with Ryn in the gilded bedroom, and the Winchesters had been given one just down the hall. And while they were not confined to their guest quarters, neither did they have full range of the asylum. Crowley granted them free use of the north wing, which contained a shower room, empty office, and little else, which did not help ease Dean's rapidly growing restlessness. He and Sam spent a lot of time watching Netflix on a tablet that had been provided to them, though sometimes Crowley brought books for Sam and Ryn to read at their request.

Castiel, for his part, often sat by the stained glass window and wracked his brain for some way to resolve this mess. But the fact of the matter was that he and Ryn and their little girl would be hunted for the rest of their lives, always on the run, always looking over their shoulders for angels…and probably those of monster kind as well. And no amount of pleading would change Heaven's stance on what they'd done and the child they had conceived.

Castiel also didn't think they could remain here forever, though Crowley wasn't giving them any indication that his uncharacteristic benevolence was going to end soon. It made Castiel suspicious.

The last flummoxing straw came a few days later, when the demon servant dropped off Castiel's old suit and trench coat, completely cleaned of blood and restored. The gesture left him utterly bewildered, though he still quickly changed out of the Winchesters' borrowed clothes and back into his own. They were like a second skin to him, and he always felt somewhat incomplete in anything else.

And now that he was once again in what felt like a layer of his suit of armor, Castiel decided to venture out from the north wing to the King's 'throne room.'

The demon guards gave him leery looks, but didn't hinder him as he approached. They even pulled the double doors open and announced his arrival, with all the dramatic pomp and circumstance Castiel expected from Crowley.

The demon was sitting on his throne, a glass of liquor in one hand. "Ah, back to your old self," he said pleasantly.

Castiel glanced down at his attire, fingering the flap of his coat. "Yes." He narrowed his eyes. "I'm surprised you went to the trouble."

"I couldn't handle seeing you without the trench coat," Crowley replied, getting to his feet. He flicked his wrist sharply, and the demons around the perimeter made a hasty exit, leaving the two of them alone.

"It's like getting one of the Winchesters without flannel," he continued, and walked over to a liquor cabinet. "Drink?"

Castiel eyed him warily. "No. Thank you."

Crowley shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Castiel rolled his shoulder in discomfort. "No, I mean, thank you. For…all you've done for us. For me." He never thought he'd humble himself like this to a demon, but Castiel was humbled. And grateful. Even if it also irked him.

Crowley lifted his brows, a smug twitch to his lips. "Don't go getting sentimental on me, Castiel. The simple fact of the matter is that every kingdom needs allies, even Hell."

"Allies?" he repeated. Because, while yes, they had often been allies, they had often been enemies, too. Just maybe not as much as of late.

"Every Armageddon," Crowley droned thoughtfully. "Every bloody, 'this is the end of all things,' a Winchester was there to stop it. Usually with a pair of wings in tow," he added with a meaningful look. "Whether I like it or not, you're all an asset I can't afford to lose."

Castiel gazed back at the demon for a prolonged moment in contemplation. "Or you've changed," he finally said.

Crowley smirked and raised his glass. "So have you." He knocked back the amber liquid, and then turned to pour another.

Castiel couldn't help but smile to himself, because yes, he had. And for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace with who he was.

Whatever that may be.

"I think I'll take that drink after all."

Crowley arched a surprised brow, but then pulled out a second glass and filled it halfway. He handed it to Castiel, holding up his own. "To allies."

Castiel clinked his glass against the King of Hell's. "To…breaking all the rules."

Crowley's face cracked into a devilish grin. "Amen."

As grateful as Dean was for the sanctuary and respite, he was starting to feel very cooped up in the freakin' asylum. They'd been there almost a week, and Cas had thankfully regained his strength, with no signs of any complications or lingering effects from the brain-hacking device, thank God. Or whoever. And even though Dean had been serious about not caring if his soul was slated for Hell, the longer they stayed here, the more he wondered about the practicality of it all. They may have been safe, but this was no place for a baby to be born and raised. Also, Uncle Crowley? Dean suppressed a shudder. Yeah, no way.

They weren't really having any luck coming up with another plan, though. In terms of supernatural allies to turn to, Crowley was the top player in the game. And there weren't really any angels left alive who they might be able to plead their case to. If there was anyone Dean thought might have sided with Cas, it was Hannah, but if there was truth to his jilted ex-lover theory, she was taking it to the extreme.

Dean actually thought their best and most permanent solution would be to board up Heaven, but without the Angel Tablet, they didn't actually have any idea how to do that. Closing the gates by casting all the angels down again would also be a very bad idea, although then at least they wouldn't be able to summon that mass smiting shit. Unfortunately, that particular spell required the heart of a nephilim, and supposedly there weren't any left in existence.

So, they were completely screwed on that front. And all the others.

Story of their lives.

Dean meandered out into the courtyard, tired of looking at the same dingy walls. Which was kind of ironic, considering the bunker was pretty much the same thing. Just, obviously more homey, less horror movie set.

The outside wasn't much better, though: walls covered in gnarled, dead ivy branches, massive bushels of brambles overflowing from various large planters, and brown weeds protruding between the grooves of the cobble stones. The only thing in bloom was a rose bush, and its thorns were bigger than the tiny buds of black velvet poking up out of the tops of the stems.

Ryn was sitting on a wrought-iron bench, idly staring at the ground.

"Hey," Dean said, not wanting to startle her.

She looked up. "Hey."

She seemed so despondent, Dean didn't know whether he should leave and give her privacy, or stay and keep her company. It wasn't like there was anything he could say to make the situation better. He knew they were all feeling trapped.

But after a moment of wavering, he walked over and took a seat beside her. He didn't try to fill the morose silence, just sat there and roved his gaze over the dead garden, trying to picture a little girl running around it, wanting to pick flowers that were actually weeds. Maybe…maybe they could spruce it up…

"How do you not hate me?" Ryn said.

Dean blinked. "Hate you?"

Ryn dropped her gaze to her lap. "For all of this. For making you a target, driving you from your home."

"You didn't do any of that," he said firmly. "This isn't your fault. It's not Cas's fault, and it's not that baby's fault. The angels are the dicks in the wrong here."

"That doesn't change the fact that all of your lives have been ruined. Because of me."

Dean let out a humorless snort. "That's usually our line."

Ryn just shook her head in growing agitation and looked away, over at the eight-foot stone walls of their prison.

Dean twisted sideways to face her. "Hey, look at me. You saved my life. If it weren't for you, I'd still have the Mark…I'd probably actually be in this exact same spot, but with black eyes and a pile of blood and bodies stacked up from here to Kansas."

Dean's gut cramped at the thought. If he'd continued down that road, if he'd succumbed to the Mark and become a demon again…Sam and Cas…they'd probably be dead. At his hand. So would Crowley, and Dean would be here now as the one sitting on that throne.

A spiky lump in his throat tried to choke him, and he swallowed hard to shove it down. That wasn't his future, would never be his future because of the woman sitting next to him.

"So don't think I could ever hate you when you did nothing wrong."

Moisture glistened in her eyes, and she blinked furiously against it. "I don't know how to do this," she confessed in a wafer-thin voice.

Dean's heart constricted, because he didn't know how they were going to do this, either. "You're good for Cas," he said, trying to focus on the positive. "That smile you put on his face?" Dean's own lips quirked just thinking about it. "It's been a long time since he's had reason to smile like that."

A lot of that had to do with the Winchesters, but some of it not. And things may have been pretty dire for them right now, but the fact that Cas was able to feel his baby girl and smile like it was the most perfect thing in the world…that made all the crap and sacrifice worth it. For all of them.

And the rest…they'd figure out.

"Come on," Dean said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand. "Let's go talk baby names."

Ryn wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, but her mouth did tug with a small smirk. "Cas has read that baby name book you asked for three times, cover to cover."

Dean rolled his eyes. Figured.

They went back inside, only to find Sam, Cas, and Crowley gathered in the hallway.

"There you are," Crowley snapped impatiently. "You need to leave."

Dean stiffened. "What? Why?"

"Angels have started poking around town."

Dean's heart dropped into his stomach. "You said this place was impossible to find!"

Crowley's beard bristled. "Yes, well, the feathered halos finally remembered we were allies. The walls may keep our secrets, but squealing cowardly demons, not so much."

"So your demons sold us out."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Hardly. No, some of my operatives have recently gone missing. I think we can guess why. And I think we all know how thorough the angels' torture methods can be." He flicked a pointed look at Cas. "So if you don't want to be caught here, I suggest you leave. Now."

And then he vanished into thin air, probably having completely left the country.

Dean spared only a split second to exchange a panicked look with Sam, and then they were storming into the bedrooms to grab their bags. Sam tossed the tablet they'd been borrowing in with their stuff, since they'd need access to the Internet, and then on the way out, Dean raided Crowley's armory for some extra angel blades since all the demons had abandoned the place.

They stuffed everything in the trunk of the Impala, and then scrambled into their respective seats to book it out of there. Dean kept glancing up through the windshield at the sky for signs of a mass angel smiting, but the overcast day remained calm. The angels probably wouldn't strike without a confirmed target, so as to avoid blowing giant holes of collateral damage all over the planet. Or so Dean hoped.

Which meant that they were gonna have to keep on the move.

They drove west for a couple of hours, no one speaking, no tape in the music player, just the somber weight of their predicament choking the air in the cabin. Dean eventually pulled over into a diner so they could get some food, but they didn't do much talking there, either, except to place their orders. The waitress looked uncomfortable at the obvious tension between them, and made a hasty retreat after pouring them cups of coffee. She also made dropping off their plates when the orders were ready a quick process.

They ate silently, save for Cas, who only sipped languidly at his coffee. Dean started mentally mapping out their options in his head, hunter safe houses with caches they could bounce between.

"We should split up," Cas said suddenly.

Dean nearly choked on the mouthful of burger he was swallowing. "What?"

"Cas," Sam sputtered, "we're stronger together."

"Ryn and I can continue on," Cas explained. "Go somewhere far away. And- and you could go home, reach out to the angels and tell them you were planning to turn us over before we escaped. That way they might forgive you and your souls would be allowed into Heaven."

Dean gaped at his idiotic friend incredulously. "You think I give a damn about that?" he nearly shouted, only catching himself in time before he drew the attention of the entire diner.

The lines around Cas's mouth tightened in pain. "You should. We're talking about eternal damnation, Dean."

"No, we're talking about selling you out for a set of pearls made of paste."

Cas's brows scrunched up in confusion, and he opened his mouth to argue further, but Dean cut him off.

"We're not doing that, Cas. End of story," he said harshly.

Blue eyes swam with roiling emotion. "I can't bear for all of you to be in danger because of me."

Dean flicked a look at Ryn, who was staying completely silent throughout this, gaze fixed pointedly on her half eaten plate. "Our lives are always in danger," he retorted.

"Cas," Sam interjected earnestly. "Don't you think the angels would try to draw you out by threatening us?"

Cas's face drained of color.

"Yeah," Dean snapped. "Those dicks upstairs have no honor, Cas. They don't care about right and wrong, about innocent and guilty. Any attempts to reason with them is gonna end in torture, plain and simple."

Cas's shoulders deflated, and he suddenly looked nothing but utterly wrecked. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Dean angrily picked up his burger and shoved another bite in his mouth.

"We're sticking together," Sam said more gently, but also brooking no further discussion on the matter.

They fell into silence once more as they finished their meals, and then got up to get back on the road, needing to stay on the move, stay one step ahead of the angel hit squad.