Whoa, my my, this is long xD

It was like falling. Falling into never ending darkness. They gripped him, grabbed his his arms and legs and wings, tearing at the feathers, tearing at his skin, their touch burning him..

It was like falling, just worse.

They were many, they were strong, stronger than he was, and they burried him underneath their being until he was no more.

He was suffocating, and he was afraid.

Like water they seemed to drown him, swashing over him in never-ending waves of thick shadows.

It did hurt, when they scratched at his very being, not afraid of his grace and unaffected by his screams. They did not fear him, he feared them.

A never ending nightmare.

Yes, a nightmare.

Just a nightmare.

Because it was over, they were gone, out of his body- his body, not Jimmy's body anymore - but they were still there, outside, somewhere in America.

It was his fault.

It was his fault, and he was so very very sorry for the thirst for power that had consumed him then, the wish to finally defeat Raphael, but he had tried; he had tried to do something good by making the wrong decision .

He had wanted to settle things right.

It had been the only way back then, the only way in his eyes, and all he had wanted was...freedom and peace and...nothing like this, nothing like the chaos he had caused.

It still did hurt, the memory, the endless livid dream of torture and darkness and fear...

He was alone, so alone under all those souls, and all he wanted to do was to curl up into a ball to protect what little light he had left inside himself. It was so small and dim, this light, and he wasn't even sure what it was just that he had to protect it, because if it was gone then so was he.

He was screaming, loud, as loud as he could, but who would hear him?

Lucifer could hear him, Lucifer, the bright light at the end of the darkness, high above him in the non-existent sky.

He couldn't reach him. He had tried, in his despair, he tried, but they stopped him, breaking his arm and his fingers as he outstreched his arm in a silent scream for help.

And then there was Dean, not the real Dean of course, but the Dean that he had met in Hell, the soulless demon with black eyes and no pity, the one that had to be saved. He was looking down at Castiel, smirking.

There was just darkness in his eyes, nothing left of the light inside.

And Castiel had also tried to reach for him, it had been his first try to reach for anyone because this was Dean, had to be Dean, but it wasn't, and it broke the angel's heart.

Dean should have never been in the pit in the first place. They should have been quicker, should have been able to save him before he had to endure so much, but they hadn't managed, HE hadn't managed, and that was why Dean would always remember the pit..

This was a never ending nightmare and he couldn't get out of it.

The darkness was gripping him, tearing his inside apart, and he screamed and screamed until he was hoarse.

"Do you want me to help you?" Lucifer asked, high above with his shining pair of six wings.

"You'll never get out of here Cas, never, this is your own Hell." Dean said in return, his voice cold as he watched Castiel being ripped apart by all the souls. He didn't move one bit. "You don't deserve to be saved."

"Castiel."

It was too dark, too dark he couldn't see-

"Castiel."

- anything because the souls were weaving a web of darkness around his mind and he struggled and tried to fight-

"Calm down, it's alright!"

- and it did hurt, it was so cold, and he yes,yes, if Lucifer could help him, if anyone could help him to get out of here-

"I am here, it's alright!"

-then he would reach out and-

Scream.

Chapter 10

"I don't know who he was. He said it was important, very important, and he gave me the necklace, the amulet, he gave it to me and said; don't ever lose it do you hear? This is important, this could change the history and settle the future, and that is why I will seal it away, together with you to watch over it until the times is right, because the others will search for it, and it's not the right time yet."

"I can't say why he didn't allow me to use the TARDIS, he didn't argue with me, just put his fingers against my forehead and zapped me from London to the Pandorica. I couldn't say much, hadn't had time to ask any questions, and it seemed that he had no time either. He said; be careful, it'll open when the time is right."

There was a pause, a long pause where the Doctor nervously pulled at the corner of the pillow, which was in his lap, while his lips were pressed into a thin line.

"I wasn't able to protect it..." He murmured, his left hand absently reaching for the bandage around his neck. The angel could have healed it, John assumed, but the angel wasn't yet awake, and that was something that made Dean Winchester nervous. The older brother sat on the armrest of the couch next to his brother, a bottle of beer in his hand while he stared at it as if it was the most important thing in the universe; he wasn't even listening to what Eleven said, or at least he only listened half-heartedly, a tense expression on his face while he stared at the piece of glass in his hand.

The Doctor sighed, an expression of regret on his face; he was clearly disappointed by himself and his failure of protecting the important artefact, blaming himself for what had happened a few hours ago.

"Did he say who would come for it?" Sam asked, leaning forward to look at the eleventh Doctor, who continued to pull at the pillow, not looking at anyone of them. "And why it had to be sealed away?"

"He said the angels would come for it...And the demons, too. That's why he had to lock it away in the Pandorica, so it would be invisible for them in any timeline, so they would be unable to detected it. They would find me in the future, he said, and in my TARDIS. That's why it had to be locked away." The Doctor paused, his brow furrowed as he pulled another pillow into his lap.

Sam nodded slowly. "Inside the Pandorica it was completly off their radar..."

Sherlock, who had his hands folded together in front of his chin, watched Eleven with watchful eyes. "That does not explain why the Pandorica opened as the Doctor, Ten, touched it."

Ten, who stood together with the Master next to the fire place, sighed loudly. "It's because we have a connection. Weeelll...Because we are the same person...I think he, whoever he was who sealed the Pandorica, put a special spell or sign in the lock so it would only open when I touch it from outside."

"I would rather like to know what it IS inside the amulet." The Master uttered, his arms crossed in front of his chest. The shadows under his eyes appeared even darker because of the dim light of the living room.

Eleven shifted uncomfortably from side to side. "I don't know what it is, I already told you." He answered, avoiding to look at the Master or his former self.

"And he didn't tell you who he was?" John asked calmly, his cup of tea in his hand. John was surprised by himself because he managed to be totally calm even under the current circumstances. Maybe it was the military training or the fact that surprises were everyday life if you were living in the same flat as Sherlock Holmes. "No name, no nothing?"

Eleven furrowed his brow even further. "No..Oh but...I...I think he said his name was Gabriel, but I am not sure."

The Winchesters hissed, and all heads turned to them.

"Good old Gabby, always one a step ahead of everyone." Dean smiled grimly as he sipped at his beer.

"So, you do know him?" John asked hopefully. Maybe they could ask him for help? If he found the artefact in the first place maybe he could find it again?

Sam laughed sadly. "Yeah, we knew him. Gabriel, the archangel. He died roughly two years ago, killed by his own brother Lucifer..." He trailed off and John was sure Sam had wanted to add something but had decided against it.

"Gabriel...and Lucifer..." Sherlock repeated thoughtfully.

John felt a little bit dizzy because hearing that Lucifer was very much real wasn't great at all.

Oh well, and about one day ago he hadn't believed in angels and demons..And now archangels.

This keeps getting more and more weird...

"I need to think." Sherlock straightened up. "Please leave the living room."

John rubbed his face with his free hand and Dean snorted but said no word. "But where should we go, Sherlock? The flat isn't that big."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he stood up. He smoothed down his purple shirt and answered; "Then I will go to your room now." He turned towards John. "Since mine is occupied." And with that he walked out of the living room, leaving the others in an awkward silence.

Eleven sat on the sofa, hunched forward and looking miserable; the whole thing seemed to be eating at him. The Time Lord continued to play with the ends of the cushions while he avoided looking at anyone. To John he almost looked like a lost child.

Sam and Dean were talking in hushed voices, Dean leaning towards his brother, his brow furrowed and his mouth grim. After a while he nodded slightly, still looking worried and grim as he stood up. He walked past John and up the stairs without saying a word.

"He's looking for Cas." Sam explained, but no one needed the explanation because it was obvious; the older Winchester had been tense and worried all the time since the angel was unconscious, a sign that Castiel meant a lot to the hunter, and his thoughts had been upstairs by the angel during their talk, waiting for the right opportunity to leave the living room to go and check on his friend.

"Is anyone hungry?" John tried, smiling. He was trying to lighten the mood. "I could take a look in the fridge, maybe we have something eatable to offer."

No one seemed all too enthusiastic but Sam smiled a friendly smile. "That's a good idea."

Eleven jumped up, causing the pillows in his lap to fall to the floor. "I'll help you!" He grinned, happy to have a reason to be in another room than Ten and the Master. It had to be difficult to deal with the own past in the form of two living souls, especially if one of them was you. It seemed that Eleven didn't want to cause any chaos which was why he was avoiding his former self and everything that could dramatically change his past.

"Good. Great." John smiled and waved towards the kitchen. "Let's go." The future Time Lord smiled happily as he followed John into the small kitchen.

The light here was dim as well, John had to change the light bulb but there hadn't been time to do so, and the dark walls didn't help to lighten up the room.

The kitchen table was full of Sherlock's experiments, glass vials and small bottles and there were dirty dishes in the sink, dishes that John hadn't been able to wash before they had to leave.

"Are those toes?" The Doctor, who literally had his head in the fridge, raised his arm over the door of the fridge without looking at John, a pack with human toes in his hand.

"Oh god yes, I am sorry!" John burried his face in the palm of his left hand, placing his cup of tea on a free spot on the kitchen counter. He had forgotten about Sherlock's latest experiment, which seemed to involve toes.

"That's interesting. " The Doctor said, sounding everything else than disgusted. "I never had the chance to take a closer look at human toes...Hm, but why would I want to do that? I don't know, hm..." He continued to look at the content of the fridge, the pack of toes now back in said fridge.

"Is there anything in the fridge that doesn't belong to a human being?" John asked, his eyes on what he could see of the Doctor behind the door of the fridge.

"Eh, well, you have milk. A lot of milk. " His head popped up behind the door of the fridge. "Why does anyone need that much milk?" He furrowed his brow and disappeared behind the door again. "And...And something that looks like cheese. However, I am not sure if it is cheese."

John sighed in frustration. They usually ordered food or ate something on their way back home. John was sure that if he wouldn't go shopping there would be no food in the fridge at all.

"I fear there is nothing we could use for a proper meal." The Doctor straightened up and closed the door of the fridge. "Except you like jam with noodles..." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh,well.."John sighed. "We could make some jam sandwiches."

The Doctor grinned.

Somehow John was able to find two clean knives and bread that hadn't been used for an experiment. They both stood at the counter making strawberry jam sandwiches while they could hear the hushed voices of the others from the living room.

Eleven had his brow furrowed, listlessly spreading jam on the slices of bread that lay on the plate in front of him. John watched the Time Lord from the corner of his eyes and noticed the way he pressed his lips into a tense line. "Are you alright?" He asked carefully, not wanting to pressurise the other man.

The Doctor blinked, looking up from the plate to meet John's gaze, nodding slowly. "Yes..." He said, slowly. "Yes, I...I am fine, I'm good..." He trailed off, his eyes back on the bread.

John's eyes were still on Eleven as the Time Lord continued to spread jam on the bread. "You don't look 'fine' to me." John said, his voice low and sympathetic.

The Doctor smiled sadly, still not looking at John. "I am fine enough." He replied, sounding as sad as he looked like.

John sighed deeply before he turned back to his bread. "I can imagine that this is...difficult for you." He began. Eleven laughed but it was only half-hearted."Well, even I can't say that I've met my past-self and my dead best friend in the future. Or, kind of future...Whatever." He waved off, using the hand that held the knife to do so- "What year is it anyway?"

"2012.." John answered and after a while of silence he asked. "He is dead, the Master? Did he die in your timeline?"

Eleven nodded slowly. "Yeah he..kind of died because of me."His face darkened and he took another piece of bread to spread jam on it. "A lot of people died because of me...and I've created a lot of chaos and...other things.."He stopped, swallowing hard."And..haha... now I lost the amulet..."He smiled slightly, lost in melancholy and self-reproaches.

John placed the knife on the counter, turning his body around to face the other man while he placed his hands on his hips."Stop blaming yourself for losing the amulet." He said with a soft voice that held no anger or reproach. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was. I was supposed to watch over it and-"

"And you did." John interrupted him. "You have been held hostage by a demon! You can call yourself lucky that you are still alive."

The Doctor laughed softly as he shook his head; he chose to say nothing and continued to spread jam on the bread.

John turned around to the counter, taking the knife to make a new sandwich. They stayed silent for a while, the hushed voices from the living room the only sound.

John could clearly remember that day he had met the Doctor for the first time.

John had been ten, and on his way back from school. Some idiots thought it would be fun to push him around on the streets and of course he had been too young to be able to defend himself against three thirteen-year-old boys. They had made fun of him, because he was so small, and he had tried to get out of the situation without being hit by a fist because of his height.

Now, after several years, he was sure they would have pushed him on the street in front of a driving car just to see if he was small enough to survive by lying down on the street so he would fit under the car without being hit by its bottom or the wheels.

However, it never came to that event; suddenly, right befor they were able to push him onto the street, a blue telephone box appeared right in front of them, out of the blue.

They all had been pretty startled but then a man, Eleven, came out of the phonebox, looking confused. "Oh well, I think that went wrong."

The older boys had gaped at him, their eyes wide and shocked, then they had turned around running away from the stranger and his blue box. John, though, had stayed. He could remember that his heart had hammered in his chest as if he had been running miles.

The Doctor had furrowed his brow, surprised by the reaction of the older boys. Finally his attention had fallen on John. "Are you alright?" He had asked, his voice soft and slightly worried.

John had gasped, nodding. "Yeah..Yeah, I am...I am fine. Just surprised..." He had rubbed the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead. "You saved me..I..Thank you." Of course the Doctor hadn't saved him on purpose but still...John had been utterly thankful.

"Oh,sure, sure." The Doctor had grinned. "You seem kind of lost. Do you know how to get home?" Of course John had known how to come home and so he had simply shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah..." But the thought of the others waiting for him around the corner of the street had made him nervous. The Doctor had noticed that and so he had smiled while he said. "I would love to see the city. Can I join you on your way home?"

Of course John had agreed.

"I am John." He had said, his hand outstreched."John Hamish Watson."

The weird man had grinned from ear to ear as he took John's hand. "And I am the Doctor. Just the Doctor. It's a pleasure to meet you."

John hadn't asked him from where he was, or how he had managed to appear out of nowhere together with his blue telephone box. He remembered the nice talk and the laughter of the Doctor, and he remembered the promise of the Doctor to come back for John. "I'll show you the stars." He had said. "Because that I can do. We could fly through the universe, you and I. What do you think?" And John had laughed,he had laughed and nodded. "Yeah that would be great!"

The Doctor had promised to come back the next day. John had waited patiently on the stairs in front of the door to their house. The Doctor hadn't come. John still wondered why but he didn't dare to ask. The Doctor had enough problems right now.

"You seem to be uncomfortable around your past-self."John said out of the blue. He felt like talking to the other man because he seemed to carry a lot on his shoulders and John wanted to make sure that staying around became a bit more comfortable for him.

"Yes I...Don't want to accidently change the past - my past..." Eleven answered as he reached for the jar of jam. "Though it seems that something has changed it already..."He frowned and began to spread more jam on the bread; there was already enough jam on the bread but John decided to say nothing about that.

"You can't tell what it was, though?" John wanted to know."Or what it is?"

Eleven shook his head regretfully."No."

"And..."John tried. "...You can't tell what will happen? To you?" Maybe they could get a lead? Maybe Eleven already knew what would happen?

Eleven sighed and shook his head again."The past, my past, that has not happened yet is like a fog inside my head. It is a bit difficult to explain, a lot of time travelling stuff is involved and then there is the fact that I shouldn't even be here... I can't see where it will lead because there are too many new possibilities. And I don't know what could have possibly changed my past. The only thing I know is that it is the reason why the Master is still alive and my past-me still itself. By what I can tell I should have regenerated already." He frowned. "I was sure it was a fixed point in time..."

John raied his eyebrows. "What does that mean?"

Eleven shrugged his shoulders. "A fixed point in time is an event that has to happen, otherwise the future will change dramatically. For example, the sinking of the Titanic. I could go back - and save thousends of lifes, but if I would do that it would create hundres of new lifes and new timelines and almost no one would even know what the Titanic is because it never sank and therefor never got any big attention." He raised his hand and rolled his eyes. "And Fate wouldn't be pleased."

Fate? John wondered. Well,if Time Lord, angels and Lucifer were real...

"Okay, I think I got it." He nodded. It made sense. Time travelling was always dangerous..."So, you think it was a fixed point that has been changed?"

"Well, it would explain things but... I am not sure." Eleven pursed his lips as he tried to find an answer for their current situation. They were quiet after that again, busy with making sandwiches that no one would eat.

The voices from the living room had grown louder, laughter could be heard. It seemed that the tension had eased.

"I wonder where my TARDIS is." Eleven mumbled, lost in his thoughts. "I really miss her."

...

The light in the room was dim. Actually, there was no light except for the small lamp on the bedside table. The room wasn't big, the walls were painted in dark red and the floor was made of solid dark wood. There was a dresser, a small one in dark brown, and a standard lamp in the right corner next to the half open window with the dark green curtains. Dean noticed the pictures at the wall showing idyllic landscapes and the periodic system at the wall behind the door. The room was odly cold...There were no family photos at the walls and nothing else personal or family related could be spotted in the room. Everything was oddly tidy.

They had decided to put Castiel into Sherlock's room because it was upstairs and therefore quieter than John's room downstairs which was near the living room.

Dean took a deep breath as he took the chair that stood in front of the desk and placed it next to the double bed. He cleared his throat and sat down on the chair, his eyes on Castiel's unmoving body.

They had stripped off his trench coat and taken off his shoes, and without his coat and black suit jacket Castiel looked smaller than usually, more fucking fragile and.. younger, less serious, but maybe that was because of the dim light...

The damn trench coat had always been too big for him but he refused to wear something else. Maybe it was for Jimmy, but Dean wasn't sure.

Cas hadn't moved. Not one bit. His face was still, pale, the shadows under his eyes even darker in the dim light and his hair was unruly, but he seemed to be okay. No fever, no troubled breathing, nothing. He was just unconscious, probably trapped inside his own head...with Lucifer. Dean swallowed and took another sip from his beer.

Well, fuck that son of a bitch.

He just hoped that it wasn't too bad, that Cas was okay...

"I hope you're alright man..." He mumbled, his eyes on Castiel's pale face. "Because I dunno what to do if you aren't..."He paused and laughed huskily. "Yeah well, you're an angel you know, and we have no angel doc around...so...better be alright, Cas." He tried to be funny but of course he wasn't. He wasn't even sure if Cas was able to hear him. Probably not.

He was still tense but calmer than down in the living room. He had been thinking of Castiel, couldn't stop himself from doing so, and there had been this urge to be...simply near the angel, to make sure that he was still there, alive, that he was alright - or as alright as he could be in his current state of mind. He had lost Cas more than once, he didn't want to lose him again. The fear to lose him again was always there, in the back of Dean's head, always gnawing at him, and things like this, seeing Cas lying unmoving on the bed. It made it even worse.

Dean didn't even know where this feeling came from, this always present fear to lose Castiel. He just knew it had always been there, in the back of his head, and now it became worse and worse because bad things kept happening ...He just wished they didn't.

"I really don't wanna lose you again, you know..." He mumbled and his voice cracked at the end. He wasn't even sure why he was talking if Cas couldn't hear him anyway, but it made him feel better. However, he would never say, admit, something like this if Cas was awake.

He had no idea how long he sat there, looking at the pale and still form of his friend, but at some point his beer was empty. Dean sighed and placed the empty bottle on the nightstand next to the small lamp.

It was then that he noticed a slight movement out of the corner of his eyes; it was Cas, throwing his head from side to side as if to shake his head. His brow was furrowed and his lips were pale and pressed into a thin line.

"Castiel?" Dean asked, carefully leaning towards the bed and the angel. "Hey, Cas, are you alright?"

Castiel didn't respond, he only shook his head. He seemed tense and his breathing began to speed up.

"Hey, hey, whoa!" Dean reached out for the angel to calm him down but his breathing became even more labored as soon as Dean reached for Castiel's arm.

"Castiel." Dean tried again.

Castiel winced, his hands clawing the bedsheet in an almost frantic way.

"Castiel, hey." Dean reached out for him again but this time Castiel backed away from him, his body twisting on the bed while a soft groan escaped his lips.

Was this a nightmare? It had to be. Or a panic attack? Some kind of memory?

"Calm down, it's alright!" Dean's voice was firm as he grabbed the arms of the other man to hold him on the bed because Castiel had started to lash out, first at the air and now at Dean who tried to hold him down so he wouldn't hurt himself or anyone else - in this case Dean.

Castiel groaned again, this time louder, and it sounded pained and desperate, almost like a whine.

"I am here." Dean whispered, his voice strong but low. "It's alright!" His right hand let go of Castiel's arm and he reached for his face, carefully, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he laid his hand on the side of Castiel's face.

Blue eyes snapped open and suddenly Castiel sat up, screaming.

Dean stumbled away, surprised by the sudden outbreak. "Whoa whoa, it's alright, it's me Cas, me, Dean, alright? You're here, it's okay!"

Cas eyes were wide and unseeing, but slowly they began to focus on Dean, on his face, and realisation dawned in the bright blue eyes. "Oh..." Castiel said, his voice rough as if he had been screaming for hours.

Steps could be heard, someone was running up the stairs, and then Sam stood in the doorway, his hair ruffled and his eyes wide. "Everything alright?" He asked, out of breath because he had been running up the stairs.

"Yeah...Yeah, everything's super..."Dean said, breathing out deeply as ran his hand through his hair.

Sam eyed his brother before his gaze went to Castiel, who sat upright in the bed with the blanket in his lap, his face white and his hands shaking. "Sure?" He asked doubtfully.

Castiel nodded slowly, his lips a tight line. "I am fine, Sam. It was just a...nightmare." He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

That had been a hell of a real nightmare! Dean could imagine what it must have been like...He still had nightmares about Hell and they felt so real that he sometimes feared he was still down there. But he wasn't.

Cas leaned forward and rubbed his forehead, his eyes tightly squeezed together.

"You're okay?" Dean asked and couldn't help but sound slightly worried.

Cas nodded slowly. "Yes ..." He answered, his voice still rough and he cleared his throat. "Yes, I just have a headache...I think I would like some pills and fresh air..."

Dean nodded hastily. "Yeah, sure!Let's go grab the pills. We can sit down somewhere outside, alright?"

Sam opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again, then he shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, I'll tell the others that... you'll be outside." He went down the stairs and left them alone.

Castiel didn't meet Dean's eyes.

It wasn't cold outside but it would rain soon. It was chilly, a bit cloudy, the dark sky full of stars.

Dean and Castiel made their way towards the Impala. Dean's baby was parked nearby and so they only had to grab the pills and could head back to sit on the stairs in front of the door to 221b Baker Street. Cas swallowed three of them down, dry, and Dean winced in sympathy as Castiel made a grimace.

They sat there for a while, just watching the street and the cars. It was late, so there were just a few people walking past them.

"What was it about?" Dean asked, casually, his eyes on the road. "The dream."

Castiel sighed, his knees hugged to his chest as he watched a car driving around the corner of the street. "Leviathan."

Dean felt a shudder running down his spine. Yeah,right...That horrible time when those things had possessed Castiel...

Dean had thought about him a lot, about Castiel, and how it must feel to have so many souls inside your body, and then those Leviathans...

He could clearly remember how fucked up Castiel had looked like as he came back to them to ask for help, his clothes full of blood and his blue eyes full of regret. He could remember that moment when Bobby and he had thought Cas was dead, the disbelief that had overwhelmed him as he realized that Cas wouldn't come back this time. And he could remember that grin that hadn't been Castiel's, that wicked grin that hadn't reached those blue eyes because those eyes were dead.

"Uhm Uh, You know, Castiel, he's gooone."

Angels didn't sleep, and therefore they had no nightmares. But Castiel was not like the other angels...

"Was it bad?" The hunter didn't say if he meant the dream or the time when the creatures had taken over the angel's body and mind.

Castiel stared ahead, his head thoughtfully tilted to one side."Yes." Was his simple answer. Dean had the feeling that Cas didn't like thinking back to that time and he couldn't blame him. "It was dark, they were dark, and they did not let go. They clawed at my very being and even my grace could not shake them off. I felt...lost and hopeless..."The angel trailed off, his voice sounding as if he was far away with his thoughts.

'It was just a dream' would have been the wrong thing to say, because Dean knew that it hadn't been just a dream.

"But, at least you're alive again,right?" Dean tried to joke but Castiel's face stayed serious. "You're here, with us, and you are you again...That's ..That's good, right?"

Maybe he should have said something like; 'you don't need to feel hopeless anymore, Cas', or, 'I know that feeling but believe me, it will get better', but that would have been lies. It wouldn't get better. It only got worse.

"I am tainted..."The angel mumbled, his chin propped on his arms. "I should not be alive..."

Dean's head jerked around. "Don't you dare say that!" He snapped because no!

Cas...Okay, Cas had been an idiot and Dean still hated him for destroying Sam's wall and all that shit, but ...but Dean knew how it felt without Cas, he knew how empty it felt because he had assumed Cas dead once, and no, no Dean didn't want him to be dead ever again! No matter how stupid Castiel could be sometimes and no matter how many fucking mistakes he had made, Dean would never want him dead. The thought alone made him sick.

"I killed my own brothers, Dean. I am a monster and I don't deserve to live, I didn't deserve to be brought back, not this time. I .."He broke off, his face a mask of pain and regret. "I killed Balthazar." He pressed his lips together, his head turned away from Dean because he was afraid of Dean's reaction. "My best friend." He whispered and his voice was filled with pain and self-loathing and Dean didn't know what to do, what to say, because he had never seen Cas like this. "I killed him because I was too hungry for power, because I was blinded by my desire to kill Raphael...I..." He broke off again, his voice small and husky. Dean noticed that he had tears in his bright blue eyes, but he didn't cry. Castiel, former warrior of god, never cried and would never cry.

"Well, that explains why Balthazar never called back..."Dean mumbled and Castiel gave him a hurt glance. Okay, humor was apparently NOT good in this situation, not when Castiel was on the verge of tears.

"Listen Cas..."Dean took a deep breath through his nose to calm himself. The news of Balthazar's death were a little bit shocking. He had liked Balthazar, that smart son of a bitch, and he was dead now because he had helped them...

No, wrong, because Cas had been a dick and had killed him, but still.. Dean couldn't get over the fact that if they hadn't asked the angel to help them Balthazar would still be very much alive.

"We all, you hear me, we all made mistakes, really fucked up mistakes, and yes, you're a dick for killing Balthazar! But, that wasn't you, that-"

Castiel shook his head, laughing weakly as he looked at his shoes. "No, Dean. You are doing it again."

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What?"

Castiel raised his gaze to look at Dean. "Defending me when I do not deserve it."

Dean stared at Castiel, his brow furrowed and his mouth slightly opened because he had intended to say something but now he didn't know what to say anymore.

Castiel gave him one of his intense glances, then he turned his head around again to look at the street.

"Thank you, Dean." He said, carefully, a small but sad smile on his lips. "For trying to wash away my sins, but...but this is not something we can simply forget..."He his gaze wandered up to the sky and he swallowed hard. "I am so very sorry for what I have done, and I know-" He cleared his throat."- I know that I can never make amends for it, I know that you cannot forgive me, but..."He sighed. "I hope that it will be...okay...again, someday. That you can trust me again, that-"

He stopped as he felt Dean's hand on the back of his own hand. "You stupid idiot." Dean chuckled huskily as he leaned towards Castiel.

"You think you're the only one who is fucked up and broken?" He asked, his voice firm but not angry. "Hell, we all are everything else than one piece but, hey, we can fix it again, right?" He searched for Castiel's eyes, but Castiel didn't look at him, through his head was slightly turned towards Dean. "We just need time, and so do you. So stop sayin' you are beyond forgiveness and new hope because you aren't. And I'll help you, you hear me?" He increased the pressure of his hand on Castiel's until the angel finally turned his head to meet Dean's steady gaze.

"This time-" The hunter said with an encouraging grin "-we'll go through this together."

There was the sound of raindrops hitting the ground and if Dean would have turned his head he would have seen the small raindrops that could be seen in the dim yellowish light of the streetlights, but Dean didn't turn his head, no, Dean stared right into Castiel's too blue eyes. Even now, in the darkness of the night, they seemed to glow. Castiel's invisible wings, Dean realized, saved them from the rain. Once again Dean wished he could see those damn wings. Even the shadows of them were amazing..

"I..."Cas began and his voice was thick with emotion as he struggled for words. "You are something else Dean,I-"

"No." Dean interrupted him with his firm voice. "No, it's no difference."

"I am the righteous man who has killed thousends of souls because he was too weak to hold on, Sam is the ex-demon blood junky who technically let Lucifer out of his cage, and you are the idiot of an angel who has thought it would be a good idea to open the purgatory and swallow thousends of souls puls some assholes called Leviathans. We've all made grave mistakes." He shook his head. "So don't tell me that there's a difference."

Castiel simple stared. He stared into Dean's eyes as if he wanted to look at the very being of the hunter's soul, his tongue licking over his dry lips while he was thinking about his next words, and it was now that Dean realized that they were really close together, that he was still touching Cas' hand, and if anyone of them would lean a bit further then...

And what was this weird feeling in his belly?

"You really are special, Dean." Castiel mumbled, and Dean couldn't help looking down at the angel's lips.

"Yeah,well..." He said, his voice hoarse. "I am the righteous man, remember?" It wasn't that chilly anymore, Dean felt rather hot...

Castiel smiled slightly. "That was not what I mean, Dean."

"Then what did you mean?" Dean wanted to know, and he was sure he felt his body leaning forward on its own will and Castiel was looking at him and he was moving,too, and suddenly-

Suddenly the door behind them opened and they both almost jumped away from each other.

Dean hastily removed his hand from Castiel's and they both turned around to face the person that stood in the doorway.

"Oh, it's you." Dean mumbled and almost rolled his eyes. The moment between him and Cas, and whatever it was that he had felt, was gone now.

Sherlock stood in front of them, the collar of his coat turned upwards and his gaze as arrogant as ever.

"Yes, me." The detective answered, almost annoyed. "And what are you two doing here?Finally admitting your feelings for each other, I hope."

Dean pressed his teeth together as he smiled forcefully. Sherlock's voice had been without any humor and had also held no scorn. "No." He snorted. "We were kinda busy dealing with our lifes until you came."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he strode past them. "Well, then continue."

Dean was about to answer that with a witty comment but Castiel was quicker. "Where are you going?" He asked, politely as he was.

Sherlock turned around on his heels, slightly surprised. "Me? Oh, I want to buy some milk." He smiled cooly. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, I need to go."

The detective turned around, his long coat floating behind him as he walked down the street. Dean and Castiel watched him until he turned around the corner.

"Seriously?"Dean raised one eyebrow. "Milk?"

Castiel shrugged his shoulders and stood up. "I think we should go back into the house." The angel had his brow furrowed as he looked up at the sky. "A storm is coming."

Dean nodded and stood up as well. The rain had gotten stronger and it was windy.

"Yeah." He said, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the rain, his gaze directed at the cloudy sky. "Guess you're right."

I've drawn two pics for the fic, you can check out this chapter on tumblr to see them.
Anyway, of course you all are free to draw pics for the fic :)