Dean's dreams were blessedly empty for once, body completely relaxed and breathing even. This was probably the best sleep he'd had in months. But the tranquillity of the room was destroyed as Sam's beside alarm shrieked to life, causing Dean to violently jolt awake and send the unfortunate smaller pieces of furniture crashing into each other and the opposite walls.
Dean gasped, now wide awake and seeing that he was not under attack, released a moan and flopped back against the pillows, arm covering his eyes and outstretched hand repeatedly hitting the alarm till it stopped ringing. Groaning again, he lifted Sam's arm slightly, peering out at the red flashing digits that told him was 7 in the morning.
"Sammy, what is wrong with you?" Dean asked, closing his eyes again, intent on falling back asleep for the majority of the day. However, this was disrupted by Sam pushing against Dean's hold, pressure becoming more forceful and demands angrier.
"Come on, Sam, can I not get a little more rest?" Dean groused, rolling onto his stomach and burying his head into a pillow, trying in vain to ignore Sam.
"Ugh, fine!" Dean consents, rolling back over and lifting Sam's shirt, examining the shiny, new, pink flesh that now covered Sam's wound. The cuts and slashes were healed, some completely gone and the deeper ones nothing but a faint white line. Over all, Sam had healed quite well. For the next week or so he would feel like utter crap, but he would continue to heal and regain his strength.
"Looks like you're in luck, Sammy. Seems you're healed enough to not be needing me anymore." And Dean smoked out of Sam, black form twisting through the bunker, lights flickering and surged into his old vessel, body arching beneath the icy surface. He came up spluttering, blinking water from his eyes and snorting it from out of his nose. Groaning and shaking droplets from his hair and lashes, Dean stood up in the bath, slipping slightly on bottom and trudging down the hall to Sam's room, a trail of water following in his wake.
Sam lay on his bed, brown scrunched together and a grimace on his face as he moaned and wrapped his arms around his torso.
"How you feeling, Sam?" Dean asked from the doorway, wiping a water droplet hanging from the tip of his nose.
"Like Death danced on my grave." He mumbled, shifting around to find a comfortable position, and grunting as it pulled slightly on his healed but sensitive wounds.
"Oh, stop being such a drama queen. You'll live." Dean replied, hoping his humour would break some of the tension in the air. Sam laughed, or at least he tried to and ended up groaning in pain and clutching his ribs slightly tighter.
"Jerk." He uttered, looking over to Dean.
"Bitch." Dean replied back, a grin splitting his face. Sam gave a small smile in return, finally finding a semi comfortable position and relaxed.
"So I take it Jason and the others are dead." He asked, although it came out more as a statement.
"Yes." Dean replied, the grin disappearing and a hard edge falling over his features. Sam nodded, biting on his bottom lip.
"Thank you." He said quietly, not looking at Dean's face.
Dean shifted in his position, feeling uncomfortable with Sam thanking him, even though he was the reason for Sam becoming injured in the first place.
"Sam, don't apologize. It's my fault that you got involved in this mess." Dean took a deep breath, hands shoved deep into his drenched jean pockets and looking extremely uncomfortable. "It's my fault that you took off, it's my fault that Jason and his goons used you to get to me, and it's my fault that you got tortured and shot. So if anyone is to apologize, it's me." He finished, looking up to Sam's soulful hazel eyes.
"I'm sorry, Sam."
Sam dropped his eyes, jaw muscle flexing. "Yeah, you should be sorry, Dean. Like you said, it is your fault that I got dragged into this." Dean's teeth clench together, hands fisting tightly "But, it's my fault that this happened to you. I should have gotten to you sooner and stopped Metatron. For that, Dean, I'm sorry." Sam said, looking to Dean with sad eyes.
Dean swallowed around the lump lodged in his throat, clearing it and looking away from Sam's beseeching eyes. "Yeah, well, we'll deal with it." Dean said, turning to leave Sam's room. "Hey, I'm gonna go change and dry off, see if there's anything to eat. I'll call you once I've got something together." Dean said over his shoulder, tapping his hand against the door frame.
"Ok, thanks." Sam replied, nestling back against his pillows. "Oh, Dean by the way." Sam said, waiting for Dean to turn back around.
"Yeah?" Dean asked, brow knitted together.
"Once I've healed up, I'm gonna beat your ass for feeding me your blood." Sam said seriously, but a small upturn of his lip took some heat out of the threat.
Smirking, Dean flitted his eyes black for a second, then returned them to normal. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Castiel and Hannah enter the room, posture drawn tall and imposing, expressions closed off and stern. Metatron looked up to them wearily, face drained of colour, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and grime. Small trails of blood dry and flaked make dark jagged lines down from his temples and centre of his forehead.
"Castiel, if you follow through with this spell all our work and the sacrifices of our siblings will have been for nothing. Once you're in Heaven again, what is there to stop another civil war breaking out?" Metatron asked, desperately trying to delay the inevitable.
Castiel's eyes harden, jaw fixed and teeth grinding, as he drops an angel blade from where it is concealed inside his coat sleeve. Metatron's gaze locks onto the shining silver weapon, eyes widening and finally reflecting the fear that he holds.
"I'm returning our brothers and sisters to where they belong. Locking them out of Heaven was a mistake which I will rectify. As for another civil war, I believe our siblings have learnt their lesson from the former. We will continue with our orders that God assigned to us."
Hannah walked to Metatron's side, unbuckling the clasp that kept his left arm restrained. He tried to pull his arm from her grasp, but Hannah held him tight, forcing his wrist out and pulling his hand back to expose the thin flesh further. Metatron's were bright with terror, body straining into the back of the chair, trying miserably to get away from Castiel as he approached with the blade raised.
"Castiel, please do not do this! Don't, stop!" Metatron screamed.
Castiel gave no reply, just raised the blade and cut the underside of Metatron's wrist, collecting the blood that fell into a small steel bowl that he had manifested. Metatron whimpered at the pain, still struggling to take his arm back, but once the bowl was a third full, Castiel pulled it from beneath his bleeding wrist indicating to Hannah to restrain his arm once again.
Castiel dipped his fingers into the warm liquid, drawing the sigil to Heaven's portal on the floor while Hannah watched with bated breath and Metatron slumped in defeat. Once the sigil had been complete Castiel stood in its centre, the red lines glowing bright with power. Pulling the vial containing his grace from his pocket, he dangled the bright white, shifting essence in front of him. Unscrewing the lid, his grace flowed out, floating in the air above him before it surged downwards past his lips.
Castiel's body arched back, light streaming from his eyes and agape mouth, a pained yell tearing from his throat as his grace weaved and embedded itself into his vessel, restoring the damage inflicted upon him. Once the excess power had left him, Castiel fell to the floor, knees giving out from underneath him and arms catching his body before he fell completely.
"Castiel, are you ok?" Hannah asked, stepping forward to help her brother but hesitating at the perimeter of the sigil.
"I'm fine, Hannah." Castiel grunted, shakily getting back to his feet as his grace rushed through him, overwhelming him temporarily.
Standing to his full height, Cas rolled his shoulders and popped his neck, releasing a sigh. Looking to where Hannah stood hesitantly at the border of the sigil, he raised his hand out to her, indicating for her to join him.
Hannah swallowed, stepping into the sigil and standing before Castiel, eyes looking down to the floor and her body tensed in preparation for what was about to happen. Gently, Castiel lifted her chin, seeing unshed tears gathering in her eyes.
"Thank you, Hannah. Be strong." Castiel said, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Releasing a shaky breath, Hannah turned her back to him, hunching her shoulders forward and spreading her wings out. Castiel stared at the light grey shadow of Hannah's wings, watching how they twitched and shifted.
"I'm sorry." Castiel murmured, then raised his blade and swiftly brought it down, severing Hannah's wings in one sweep.
Hannah let out a gut wrenching scream, as the drawn sigils flared brightly, white light filling the room and shattering the windows, as a high pitched ring drowned out her scream. A shockwave spread out from the factory, glass and lights shattering and exploding, car alarms blaring loudly. The inside of the factory was dead silent, nothing left but the chair and charred sigil on the floor. Outside lights ascended towards the sky, causing passerby's to stop and stare in shock and amazement.
The angels were returning home.
Dean walked back into Sam's room, dry, wearing new clothes and carrying a plate with a couple sandwiches and two beers. Sam blearily opened his eyes, seeing Dean he stretched slowly, feeling his muscles protest weakly at their tensing. He pushed himself up, shifting backwards to make room for Dean to sit at the end of the bed.
Silently, Dean held out the sandwiches, Sam picking one up and uttering a quiet "Thank you." before taking a bite. Both brothers sat in silence, munching on their dinner and taking sips from their beers.
"So, how we going to do things now?" Dean was the first to break the silence, turning slightly to look at Sam.
Sam chewed slowly on his mouthful, contemplating Dean's question.
"I don't know, Dean. We could just continue with things as normal, but you do realize that nothing is going to be exactly the same after this." Sam answered, looking to Dean.
"Yeah, I know. Some of the hunts are going to be harder for me to shake off than others, and on those ones I want you to stand back from me, Sam. I don't want to hurt you again while I'm not entirely in control what I'm doing. But only get involved if there's a chance that civilians are at risk." Dean said, a stern edge to his voice.
"Ok." Sam replied, nodding his head and taking another sip from his beer.
The alarms suddenly blared to life, making Dean choke on the mouthful of beer he had just taken.
"What the hell is it now!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and running to the main area of the bunker, looking over the railing and seeing red lights popping up all over the map in the centre of the lower floor.
"What is it?" Sam shouted over the noise, limping his way to Dean's side. Both Hunters raised their heads as the alarm suddenly gave out, spinning quickly to see the figure standing behind them.
"Cas?" Sam said, surprised to see the angel standing before them. Dean backed away quickly, crouching down slightly with eyes wide as he took in the giant shadows of Castiel's four wings. Sam looked to his retreating brother, only then realizing the threat that the angel possessed to Dean. Sam dragged his gaze to Cas, stepping in front of Dean to shield him from any form of attack.
"You both need not worry, I'm not going to attack Dean."
Dean rose slowly from his crouch, shoulders still tense but posture more open to Castiel.
"Cas, do you know what's happening?" Sam asked, stepping aside.
"The angels are returning to Heaven." Castiel replied, face stoic but a bright gleam in his eyes.
"What? You found the spell?" Sam suddenly burst out, wincing as it made his chest burn.
"Yes, we located the spell and have reopened the Gates. The angels and souls are now returning to where they belong."
"So, if the spell worked, does that mean you're an angel again?" Sam hedged, looking at Dean uncertainly who nodded his head in confirmation.
"Yes. One of the requirements of the spell was my grace being returned." Cas said, walking up to Dean who stood straight.
"I just want you to know, Dean, that even though you are a demon, I would not harm you unless I thought it necessary." Cas said quietly, looking up to the taller man.
"Thanks, I think. So, that means you're not going to smite me?" Dean asked, trying for a bit of humour that came out strained.
"No, I'm not." He said, then lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders in a tight hug.
Dean let out a surprised yelp, half raising his arms to either embrace Castiel or push him away.
"I'm sorry for not being there to save you, Dean. But I am glad that you are still alive." Cas said, still holding onto the uncomfortable Hunter.
Eventually, Dean gave an awkward pat to Castiel's shoulder, muttering "Ok, get off. No Chick flick moments." but had a small smile on his face.
The three stood looking at each other, silence falling over the room as neither knew what to say. After a few seconds, Dean let out a large sigh, proclaiming loudly "Well, I for one am still hungry. Wanna get a bite to eat."
Sam started chuckling and shook his head at his brother, smile splitting his face while Cas had a grin spread across his lips as he looked between the two brothers, with Dean appearing perplexed by their amusement.
All three headed for the Bunkers entrance, arguing between each other where they should go or what to eat, while the great white lights continued to steadily rise to the sky.
Hi, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, followed and favourited this fic. Sorry for the update taking a bit longer than usual, I wasn't sure if I was going to continue or end the story here. Having come to a decision, I am going to end things here, but I may pick them back up at a later date in a different story once I've got some more ideas down. Again thank you to everyone and I hope that you enjoy it!
