Chapter 12: The Descent of the Spirit

In the end, going to another person's heaven had been as simple as inscribing Enochian sigils on the ground of Heaven's Garden and passing through it. Castiel may not posses real wings, but he had seen how Ash had made doorways, and they had been Enochian. The angel beat himself up for a few seconds because he had not realized how Ash navigated Heaven sooner. Cas had always relied on his wings to travel, so he had not needed to think about an alternate way until then. He went to Dean's heaven, then hopped over to the front of Bobby's porch when he had found the lake-house empty.

Once at Bobby's, a woman, whom Castiel presumed to be Bobby's wife, opened the door for him and stared at him in confusion. No one expected strangers visiting in Heaven.

"Hello," Castiel said uneasily, wings tucked away in their usual space, false grace tamped down, and the usual perturbed, awkward frown that he had not yet outgrown when talking to strangers. "I was wondering if I could talk to Robert Singer?"

She gave him a welcoming smile before motioning him to come in. Bobby's heaven was the scrapyard that he'd lived in when he was alive, but it had the touch of a woman: flowers and crocheted doilies, where once before there had just been the messy piles of books, lore, and phones that had been stacked haphazardly. Bobby was moving out of the living room, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Castiel.

Momentarily stunned at the angel's appearance Bobby blurted out, "What got you dead, boy?"

"I'm not. I'm just visiting," Castiel answered, looking around the house and still marveling at how one person changed the way Bobby had been on Earth. "I needed a third person insight and this seemed the best place to start."

"You been to Dean's place yet?" Bobby asked as he waved Castiel into his library. Karen smiled at them before mentioning preparing food for their guest and leaving them alone to talk.

Castiel shook his head. "No one was there when I stopped by, and I did not want to stay too long without the owner there. I might influence his heaven in unforeseen ways."

Bobby made a noncommittal grunt before dropping down on his desk chair. He rubbed the bill of his cap absent-mindedly before asking, "So what's up that noggin' of yours that has you knock-knockin' on Heaven's door?"

Castiel took out the piece of scrap he'd dreamt up and written the prophecy on before he handed it to Bobby. "Dean was asking around about the Caretaker of the Throne so that we can open the Gates of Heaven. Michael has given me this much to work on, but mostly I have no idea who this is."

Bobby frowned as he read over the lines. "Dean said that Lucifer attacked so he got squat, but Dean got the impression that both of those dickbags knew who this was, or at least had an idea."

Castiel processed that information slowly and shook his head. "It may be that Michael thinks that there is a lesson to be learned from trying to find out who this is, or he is just speculating as well. Could you pass this on to Dean? It might help him with opening the Gates." Castiel could try other garrisons, other flights of angels, but what had been true before was still true now, anything important was usually kept in the higher circles.

"That idjit is off and trying to one up that angel douchebag and open your Gates for you. We ain't seein' each other any time soon," Bobby grumbled, but kept the prophecy in one of the desk drawers. "What are you doing?"

"I was planning on searching for my grace," Castiel said immediately. It had seemed impossible earlier, but talking to Bobby had given him a bit of hope. "I could be of more help to Dean if I retrieved it. I am in Heaven already, it seems like the logical next step."

"You got ideas on how to go about that?"

"I can't physically search Heaven. It is infinite and I do not have the means to travel fast enough without my grace outside of Shehaqim. Even if I had my grace Heaven's boundaries are quite fluid and immeasurable," Castiel admitted. He had toyed with using the same spell he had used to track Anna, but that would just reveal Castiel's location instead of his grace. "What I do have is a working knowledge of my grace and Heaven in general. Whenever we posses a vessel, a minute amount of our grace is left behind."

Castiel formed a syringe in his palm slowly, examining it to see if it was correct before handing it to Bobby. "I would really appreciate it if you could extract my remaining grace from this vessel."

Bobby took the syringe and eyed it dubiously. "You sure about that? Your grace might be the glue keeping you together." Bobby motioned towards Castiel.

It was better than doing nothing, and he was more useful to Dean and the Host in general as an angel. Castiel would miss a lot of things about being human, though. "I'll get through this. I'll walk you through it," Castiel said asking for a pen and a mirror so he could see what Bobby was doing.

"If you're sure, boy. Go lie down on the that couch." Bobby pointed, gathering the things that the angel asked for.

Once Castiel had arranged himself sufficiently on the couch and Bobby had dragged something comfortable to sit on to make the angel's neck eye level, Cas hyperextended his neck and drew a line on his neck from his ear to his clavicle, "This muscle is the sternocleidomastoid." Castiel then pointed to the area that bisected the muscle he previously mentioned. "This blood vessel is the external jugular."

Bobby huffed. Most humans knew that injuring anyone in the neck could kill them and not much else, so Castiel knew where the apprehension was coming from. "Why is it again that you're getting a hunter to extract your grace when we're in Heaven and we could probably scrounge up a doctor somewhere?"

Because they were in Heaven, Bobby couldn't do him too much damage. Castiel didn't see it as something that would relieve Bobby's anxiety over the procedure, so he continued explaining to alleviate Bobby's worry. Although the explanation didn't help much with Bobby's unease, the old hunter soldiered on.

"Puncture the site here." Castiel instructed as he took the ballpoint and mirror that he'd requested and marked the area that was crossing the external jugular and the lateral border of the sternocleidomastoid. "Just don't go for the pulsing carotid and you'll be fine. Please don't stab me with the needle, an acute angle works best. Point the needle towards the clavicle and just advance the needle slowly under the sternocleidomastoid, aspirate slowly and you'll get grace."

Bobby glared at Castiel before proceeding to do as he was told. Castiel clutched at the side of the sofa and bore the pain. While the procedure itself was a needle prick, Bobby probably had never used anything more than a peripheral vein in his life.

Castiel knew the moment Bobby hit his grace. The pain was excruciating, worse than the time that he'd been flayed in Raki'a during his indoctrination. It felt like Bobby was breaking off pieces of himself, scourging them, then pulling out all of his bones and nerves, and setting them ablaze. By the time that Bobby had filled an entire syringe, Castiel was close to passing out, sweat dotted his brow, and he had made gouges where his fingernails had torn through the leather on Bobby's couch.

"I hope that's enough, boy, 'cause I don't think I can do that again," Bobby said as he set the full syringe on the low table beside Castiel.

Castiel looked at it, with its glowing tendrils and its foggy swirls and despite the pain, he smiled.

oOo

Bobby had offered Castiel room, but without the Winchesters, the angel felt like an intruder in Bobby's home. As soon as he could pretend to walk straight, Castiel had drawn sigils for the Garden and left.

The axis mundi was a road filled with memories leading to a soul's final heaven. Castiel wasn't dead, therefore he had no personal heaven. This left him no choice but to recuperate from the ordeal in the Garden.

The water that bubbled from the Tree of Life helped the healing process, but the Garden in itself was built in the beginning of time for humans as Paradise: no wounds or harm could befall mortals while in it. Fortunately for Castiel, he had taken good enough care of Jimmy Novak's body that his grace wasn't the "glue that's keeping him together" as Bobby had inferred. Extracting the vestiges of his grace hadn't debilitated him, and the pain due to the procedure was present, but bearable.

While the Garden was the center of human construct in Heaven, it was also a place of solace for angels. There, Castiel felt like he was in the presence of God. The former angel leaned his head against one of the tree trunks and sank down into the greenery surrounding it. He didn't know how long he spent there sleeping, but he woke up surrounded by a couple of deer, some raccoons, and even a few squirrels. Cas was pretty sure there were other animals present as well, but he couldn't be sure because most of them were nosing around and wreaking havoc by trying to eat his hair, investigate his pockets, and climb over his shoulders.

"I understand. Next time find higher sleeping ground," Castiel acknowledged and sent them on their way by emptying his pockets and gently pushing them. One squirrel had looked back and chattered in a sort of farewell before it was lost again in the trees and the shrubbery.

Castiel flicked off the leaves and specks of dust he'd accumulated before walking towards the Tree of Life and requesting entry to Vilon. The Tree accommodated his request by dropping Castiel in the middle of the vast expanse that humans have named Heaven and cosmos before they knew there was anything beyond their clouds and their brilliant sun. To angels, this place was simply: the first circle of Heaven, which they used to fly.

Gabriel's apparition lay on one of the roots of the Tree, one of his wings idly flaring out and ruffling. He swooped down immediately, once he noticed the younger angel's presence, eyebrow raised and wondering about what Castiel had found.

While Castiel regaled Gabriel with the story of the Cage and the prophecy Gabriel started to become more focused. The archangel was silent until Castiel procured the bottle where he'd stored his grace from Bobby's little extraction.

Gabriel took the vial in his hands, shook it to watch its light blue glow, and told Castiel that he was impressed that the angel still had that much inside of him despite being made human and growing his own soul in the process. Gabriel's eyes lifted to Cas. "You're going to try to get a fix on your grace, aren't you?"

Castiel nodded, because there was nothing else he could do, and it was a rare opportunity to be in Heaven in the first place.

Gabriel hesitated before handing back the glowing vial. "You realize that you're never going to taste peanut butter and jelly the same way? Being an angel, all of these emotions that you have inside you now that's clear and strong, you'll feel it too, but it's going to be muted. Grace wasn't meant to co-exist with a soul."

"It is a small price to pay to be useful again," Castiel admitted. He could now understand why Balthazar and Gabriel had chosen to distance themselves from the Host and why Anna chose to fall. Being human was different, limiting in some ways, but it was pure and exhilarating.

If there wasn't a war and Castiel wasn't needed, he would have gladly spent the rest of his days human, just to see the humans' remarkable strength. They had the ability to persevere, despite not having grace to back them up, and managed to look forward day to day into the unknown.

Gabriel reached for Castiel's shoulder and squeezed it in comfort. Castiel had half expected Gabriel's hand to pass through his shoulder, but it was surprisingly solid, despite Gabriel's claim that this was a projection. "Cassie… that prophet and the Winchesters don't just appreciate you for your grace. They see your courage and your strength… They see you." Gabe paused. "Geez, I sound like a soap opera."

"That's what makes taking my grace back easier. They need me right now and it would be a great disservice if I cannot give them the most that I can be," Castiel said in the quiet tones of conviction, ignoring his brother's last comment. "This fight with Metatron, the angels locked away from Heaven… this isn't even the Winchester's fight, it's ours. They've taken the burden on their shoulders because it's what they do, but I have the opportunity to change that."

Gabriel nodded once, Castiel was glad that Gabriel didn't push it. Maybe Gabriel had understood certainty when he saw it. "You were blessed by Mikey," Gabriel said, noticing Michael's grace. "Let me give you my blessing too."

Michael had given benediction despite Castiel being uncertain of it. Now in front of the Third Archangel, Castiel thought maybe it was time to ask for redemption instead of shunning it. "Gabriel, Commander of the Legion, whose only superior has been Michael, I would ask mercy for me, a sinner," Castiel said the lines, ancient, and ritualistic.

There was a small twitch in Gabriel's lips, because Gabriel found most things funny, despite this ritual being reverent and sincere. It was the opening rites of a confession, so Gabriel nodded and motioned for Cas to continue. "All right, Cas, let's hear your sins."

Castiel has been removed from the Host for so long that he'd forgotten what it was like to have a superior to look up to. Despite it being archaic to be dependent on someone, it was also a lessening of burden. He started with Balthazar, because though it was not the most recent of his crimes, it was the embodiment of his largest. That he had betrayed a friend so that he could remain within the Winchester's trust.

Castiel rambled on from there, working with Crowley, going on with the souls, waging civil war, and demolishing Sam's wall. Letting Sam out of the panic room, and taking the angel tablet. He even confessed of going to the Den of Iniquity. What it was, was a bearing of soul to Gabriel in its entirety, nothing was too trivial to leave out. It was non-linear and muddled in the way that confessions were, but it was there honest, open, and brutal because Castiel willed it so. "I am sorry."

Gabriel lifted his fingers to touch Castiel's forehead, the soft pulse of grace warm on his skin. "Give thanks, for our Father is good, and His mercy endures forever," Gabriel whispered in sanctification.

Castiel opened his eyes and waited for a pronouncement from Gabriel, but the archangel just stepped away and gave him a clap on the shoulder. "Gabriel, my penance?" Castiel asked in confusion.

"You've done enough, Castiel," Gabriel said, one hand on Castiel's arm to steady him. "But you've never wanted to hear that from me. You think that basking in Dean's presence is worth more to you than finding redemption in his hands. This helps, but it was never as important as Dean's company. It's why you punish yourself endlessly, because you cannot ask him for forgiveness."

Castiel was doubtful that any penance coming from him could ever be adequate, but maybe this blessing, this atonement, would deem him worthy to be a receptacle of grace once again. Maybe not enough to be forgiven for his past sins, but enough to be host to his grace.

Gabriel clucked his tongue and brought his fingers to Castiel's forehead again. "I know you think I'm pissed at you, okay?" Dean's voice in prayer, strong as it was when he'd uttered it, weighted because of the predicament he had been in then. "But I don't care that the angels fell. So whatever you did and didn't do, it doesn't matter, okay? Please, man, I need you here."

Castiel had lost the ability to hear prayers when he'd lost his grace, so this prayer, solemn an urgent, had been lost until Gabriel gifted it. Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Was that enough of an absolution for you? He forgave you long before you asked for it, Cas. Stop punishing yourself."

Redemption felt like a long way off, but this was a start. Castiel wished he'd heard that prayer when Dean had uttered it, because in essence it had been a plea for help, but that time was over now. He could only do what could affect the future. "I need a spell to find my grace."

Gabriel motioned for Castiel to hand over the vial with his grace and uncapped it, setting the blue mist free. Gabriel blew on it softly and helped it along the Tree of Life, where it nestled among the leaves until finally resting on one of the spheres that embodied Aravoth.

After a few moments, the pod enlarged, pooling bright light. It was different from when souls ripen on the Tree. A girl, fresh faced and young walked out of the pod when it was wide enough and stepped into Gabriel's proximity. Dark curls, bright blue eyes and the naïveté that came from being newly made. Castiel eyed her wearily, although there was a distinct tone that made her sound familiar.

"Why try looking for it when the Tree can bring your grace to you?" Gabriel asked, grinning as his eyes tracked the child stepped cautiously into Vilon's cosmos.

"What do you mean the Tree can bring it to me?" Castiel asked dubiously as the girl walked closer to them in curiosity.

"Pure creation, wasn't it? In Aravoth where all angels are made?" Gabriel asked rhetorically then knelt down before the little girl, giving her his hand. "And thus we are changed by experience, thought, and light. Burned through in the River of Rigyon, where we are destroyed, where we were once created. Hello, child."

She rubbed her eyes, as if wiping Sandman's dust away from them and blinking owlishly up to Gabriel. "An archangel is in Heaven again. Hallelujah, for we are not alone," she whispered in awe, her hands letting go of his to pat Gabriel's cheeks, as if she wasn't sure that he was there.

Gabriel gave her a cheeky grin before turning to Castiel. "Kinda reminds me of you when you were freshly made: easily impressed and quite innocent."

"All of us were easily impressed and innocent," Castiel countered as he stepped forward to get a good look at the child. She reminded Castiel of Claire Novak despite not sharing any physical similarities. Castiel hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.

"I know you," the girl said to Castiel now that Gabriel had shifted attention to the graceless angel, her eyebrows knit in remembrance. "I think I am your shadow."

"You are his song and his wings," Gabriel informed her gently, stepping back from her so that she could turn in the direction of the dark-haired man. "He has come to welcome you home."

"Ahh," the child said, as if everything made sense to her, and maybe it did. In Castiel's limited scope as human it didn't, but maybe to her it did. "I have been waiting so very long for you."

It dawned on Castiel that she was not a construct to find his grace, she was his grace. Suddenly, Gabriel's words made sense. Somehow, during his loss of grace, she had come into contact with the River of Rigyon. Because the river creates angels and because she was, by definition, pure creation, she was made into being.

Finding his grace had always been about the abstract, of finding power pulsing and bright. It had never been about blue eyes and sentience. Castiel hadn't expected this girl at all, with her wonder and innocence.

"This girl has been touched by Luci," Gabriel commented as he stood up, his palm resting on the girl's head.

"Did Lucifer harm you?" Castiel asked, concerned.

"I have not been granted the memory of him," the girl answered, her head bowing. "I have not been granted much of memory but the Scribe."

"If you count the fact that Raphael blew your guts to oblivion, you've kinda collected all four archangels," Gabriel realized. He furrowed his brow that Castiel used to associate with Gabriel thinking up of ways to torment angels in the garrison.

"I don't think that Raphael 'blowing me up' counts, Gabriel."

"Really? 'Cuz although I think dear old Raph there did all that in anger, it does count as purifying your vessel. Thus God must send a purifying destruction upon them." Only Gabriel could quote the Bible and still sound masterfully irreverent while doing it. It must be the eyebrow waggle.

Castiel sighed in exasperation. "If that's the case, then Lucifer gets that distinction as well. Raphael has not been the only angel to reduce my vessel to particles so fine that you'd think it was red mist."

Gabriel's eyes rounded in fascination. "Your vessel has been blown up by two archangels, your soul has been touched by two and your grace has been influenced by one. You're kind of an attention hog there, Cas."

"I don't think it's relevant." Castiel didn't understand the Gabriel's fascination.

Castiel and the girl stood there for an inordinate amount of time before Gabriel finally said, "You were looking for your grace, Cas, here she is. What are you going to do about it?"

"Gabriel… I can't kill her," Castiel protested in dismay.

"Oh my god, I get the entire human bandwagon okay?" Gabriel huffed, and Castiel understood that Gabriel was thinking the work going to waste. "I completely forgot humans had their hang ups about these kinds of things that's now completely in you!"

The girl stepped forward and tugged on Castiel's hand, bringing his attention to her instead of Gabriel's hysterics. "Cas—siel?" she inferred his name from their conversation, adding the standard Hebrew word el in his name, as most angels were named: for God. "What the Archangel Gabriel says is true. I will not die once I am in you. I am the 'you' that you've forgotten."

"What she said!" Gabriel shouted, although by now, Castiel was largely ignoring the archangel for observing this little girl: his grace brought to life.

"Commander Gabriel," she addressed the archangel. Gabriel gave her an irritated look. Most of the angels in the garrisons learned that Gabriel didn't like the hyper-militarized structure of Heaven. Gabriel was never one for rank or superiority and he always hated being reminded of it. "Let me take him to the mortals' heavens. He is mortal and he has been granted a soul. I can help him build a heaven there. Let me take him to say goodbye to his might-have-beens and his what-ifs. To the children he might have had if he'd persisted, to the story he could have had if he'd lived this life as a mortal."

Gabriel frowned as he regarded that question. "Won't the old pencil-pusher be looking for you?"

She looked up, her eyes unfocused then settled her eyes on Gabriel once more. "The ritual cleansing of fire shouldn't take place for a few more days. Cassiel is mortal, we could make Shehaqim run at the fastest possible time that he can muster. The Scribe is running in his own pocket of time because he wants to finish the entire Wheel of Time in one sitting. He has the author here somewhere slaving away to give him the real ending. Besides, he's waiting for an ambush in Aravoth. We are beneath his concerns."

Gabriel blinked upon hearing Metatron's priorities. "I always knew that guy was a nerd. Candy and porn I understand, but a book? Knock yourself out, kiddo. I'm sure John Constantine here can take you out on your Christmas Carol remake."

"It's not remotely close to Christmas," Castiel pointed out. "And I'm not sure this is a good idea. Dean still needs my help."

"See, the reason why you're going to third heaven is Dean," Gabriel reminded the younger angel. "You're going to let go of your hang ups with cannibalizing your grace and burning your newly minted soul out."

"Besides, Shehaqim can run really, really fast if we need it to," the girl said reasonably. "We'll be finished before the commander flaps his wings."

"But—"

"Cassie, I do not appreciate the sudden reversal you're throwing at me! I was all game to forget about your grace when I was asking you to think about yourself for a change. Forgetting about it for a construct that's essentially you wasn't what I was aiming for!" Gabriel threw his hands in the air. "This stubborn ass isn't going to go there without someone dragging him. Go ahead. Go on a date. Make sure to bring me back candy. I love Shehaqim made candy, it's made of dreams, so the high is indescribable."

The child smiled before opening the three pairs of wings that Castiel had been bestowed with before his grace had been stripped.

"Wait," Castiel said, tugging her back into the first circle. "If we are going to spend a significant amount of time together, I would ask for your name."

There was a smile on her lips. It was so very human of him to ask it. A true name was potent enough that immortals never shared it, lest they be summoned and their will be used in spells. "I was not bestowed a name because I am you. But you may call me as the Scribe calls me: Charis."

Charis was one of the ancient words for grace. She hadn't given them a name, she had given them an epithet.

"Castiel, even your grace is literal," Gabriel huffed out in amusement before shaking his head at his brother. "Charis, Metatron must have mentioned the Caretaker to you. The only one that can rescind the lock on Heaven's doors."

"Yes. I remember," Charis answered meekly.

"The Caretaker is your priority over everything. Heaven cannot be locked for long," Gabriel pronounced.

Castiel nodded, because he understood the order and Charis echoed the movement. "Which is why I think—"

Gabriel held his hand up. "Cassie, you're the only other angel in Heaven. If you're really dead set on opening the Gates, I'd rather you even up the odds with Metatron, so I'd rather power you up with your grace. You being reluctant to get your grace, isn't helping. So yes, this little side trip is necessary. Charis is going to make it all fast so it's not a complete waste of time and you are going to stop arguing and do it."

Then Charis was lifting Castiel up and flying.

oOo

Charis and Castiel spent years in the third circle, in Castiel's heaven that wasn't.

Castiel managed a few years of good hunting with Kevin, before Kevin had an almost fatal accident with a demon. That incident helped Castiel decide to take the place of the archangel that was supposed to protect the prophet.

Castiel lived with Kevin for a long time, watching Kevin just as he had watched over Sam and Dean when they were his charges, albeit with less power and more reliance on his physical prowess. It had taken the former angel both effort and time to train Jimmy Novak's body and his own mind to stop relying on his absent grace and fight with the skills he had learned as a solider. It was something that he'd worked painstakingly hard on at the gym, training Jimmy's muscles to act before his mind could.

Kevin and Castiel restocked the Men of Letter's library, fortified it, and then called it home. On weekends, they drove up to Sam's and had picnics. In one of those intervening years, they found out Linda Tran had been kept alive by Crowley and saved her from a warehouse. The reunion was both bittersweet and painful.

It also prompted Kevin to look for an alternate life for himself. With the aid of Charlie's "creative hacking," Kevin finished college a little late with a major in Religious Studies. Castiel had followed Kevin at college by getting into Theology. Sam had been supportive, but mainly laughed the entire time, especially when Kevin finally hooked up with the girl that would end up being his wife.

They left hunting by becoming something like Bobby or Garth. They were in a unique situation where Castiel could translate any language and Kevin could whip up almost any spell that pertained to demons and angels.

In one of his trips for Theology, Castiel found Daphne Allen, his wife from when he'd been known as Emmanuel, whom he'd abandoned and forgotten because of his year long institutionalization after taking up Sam's version of crazy. They ended up talking and re-learning each other. Despite this, Castiel remained close to Kevin because he was now Kevin's protector and would never forgive himself if Kevin died before him. Daphne accepted that as one of his quirks.

Castiel watched as Kevin, Sam, and their wives had children and lived. Castiel and Daphne adopted Charis.

Charis filled his might-have-beens with moments of reconnecting with Sam, helping Kevin move out of the lifestyle, and slowly learning what it was to be human. It was a lifetime of made up memories that Charis had seen and shared with him.

But in Castiel's heart was the ache, the longing and knowledge that this wasn't real and that Dean was somewhere that needed him. Charis was still a child, beside him on his deathbed.

"This was selfish of me." Castiel hacked a cough. He hadn't thought he would reach such an old age. "I shouldn't have indulged in what was, in essence, a movie."

"You weren't ready to go, Cas," Charis explained, her head leaning on her folded arms, watching him carefully. "You wanted to fix things, to make everything better. You wanted to atone, but you didn't want to ask for it. You're scared that he isn't waiting for you."

"God has never waited for me." Castiel sighed in remorse.

"Not God," Charis said, one finger touching Castiel's wrist. "Dean."

There was a dull emptiness that twinged in the well of his memory when she said it. Forcefully forgotten in the echoes of this false reality, but no less important. "What do you know about Dean?"

"Enough to know that we've both met him and that he resonates within me," Charis whispered, her dark curls spread over the bed as she watched him in this slow death. Angels were never meant to die in protracted amounts of time; it was meant to be a blinding flash of the angel blade or the Rit Zien, their angelic healers. This human death was the agony of knowing that Castiel's body was failing him and he could do nothing. "I think it's time. Don't you want to meet Dean again?"

"All right," Castiel acquiesced. He'd had more than enough.

"I need a 'yes,' " Charis reminded him.

Castiel smiled, despite the cough and his wet lungs. Of course. How could he have forgotten? It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago. "Yes."

Castiel's mortal life ended as his angelic one began: as a bright light in the darkness, as a promise, a thought, while his humble niche in Shehaqim disintegrated for the lack of a mortal's dreams.