A/N: Sorry for the long break, but life has gotten a little crazy, and I haven't had as much time for writing. Glad to have this finished, though it turned out better than I expected, and I was glad to get some for-real action in here! Next, we move onto threesome-land, so stay tuned for that!

Disclaimer: Not mine. Why do you think I cry at night?

Dean won't look at him. Sam had thought that maybe it was all in his head, until Bobby had given him a questioning look over Dean's shoulder that morning at breakfast. Sam had just shrugged a shoulder and looked down at his bacon uncomfortably. Dean isn't looking at Cas, either, and while it doesn't make any damn sense to Sam, at least he doesn't feel quite so alone.

There's tension in the air, and it buzzes and crackles and itches along the back of Sam's neck until he's jumpier than a skittish cat. Cas tiptoes around like he's walking through a field of land mines all day, and when Sam corners him getting a glass of water in the kitchen and asks what the hell is going on, he gets so wide-eyed and flustered that Sam takes pity on him and lets the whole thing drop.

It's late in the afternoon when Ramiel calls them all into the den. He's sitting at Quentin's desk, surrounded by stacks of leather-bound books and crinkled vellum, the chrome desk lamp throwing his features into a sharp contrast of light and shadow. Sam catches himself staring, and then catches Dean catching him, and he coughs into his hand and ducks into a chair in the corner, slouching down and trying to be unassuming.

Ramiel folds his hands on the desk and gives them all a serious look. "What do you know about the prophet Matthias?" he says without precursor.

"That the guy who predicted Apocalypse: the sequel?" Dean asks, casting a glance over at Bobby, who gives him a brief nod.

"It is," Ramiel says, a frown creasing his brow and thinning his lips. "It was he I was trying to reach when I was accosted yesterday."

"They wouldn't let you see him?" Cas asks, leaning forward with a worried look on his face. "We have always been allowed access to the prophets."

"Need I remind you, brother," Ramiel mouth twisting into a cruel smirk, "that we no longer includes you?"

"Hey," Dean says, a warning tone in his voice, as Cas shoots up out of his chair, hands bunched into fists at his sides.

"You gave up any claim you might have held on the heavenly realm when you Fell for him," Ramiel says, tipping his head at Dean. Sam looks over just in time to see Dean's ears go scarlet, though his face remains impassive and stony.

"I Fell to earth so I could warn the Winchesters of what was coming," Cas growls, lifting his chin stubbornly and taking a step forward. "That includes Sam."

Ramiel's smirk falters for a bare second, and then it's back in full-force so quickly, Sam wonders if he imagined it was ever really gone.

"The fact remains, Castiel, that you are no longer one of the Host. It would be wise to remember that."

"It would be wise for you to remember to kiss my -" Cas begins, but then Dean puts a hand on his arm, and the former angels goes instantly quiet.

Cas sits down with a huff, and Sam looks over just in time to see the corner of Bobby's mouth twitching. He feels a smile of his own stretching his lips, and suddenly a little of the tension in the room has dissipated. Sam sits back in his chair, breathing a little easier, and even Ramiel looks mildly impressed that Cas hadn't backed down.

"May we get on to business?" he asks a moment later, and the rest of them nod. "Good. As it seems you are aware, Matthias prophesied this war, contingent, of course, upon Sam being brought back from the pit." Ramiel looks down as he says this, and Sam can't quite read the expression on his face. "I had hoped to glean more information from Matthias on what is yet to come, but I was rebuffed by his personal guard."

"He's being guarded in heaven?" Cas says, and though Sam doesn't understand the significance of that, he can tell it's bad. "What are they protecting him from?"

"Me, apparently," Ramiel says dryly. He sighs. "Truthfully, I do not know. The Host is not yet aware of my alliance with you. It does not make sense that they would try to keep me from the prophet."

"Unless he's keepin' a secret for the Big Guy himself," Bobby says. "Maybe no one knows whatever it is he's hiding."

Ramiel looks affronted. "I am one of the oldest beings in the Host," he says. "My Father shaped my wings with His hands and breathed His own breath into my lungs. I served for millennia in His own personal guard; there is nothing He would keep from me."

"Maybe he ain't callin' the shots anymore," Bobby grumbles, and Cas snorts.

Ramiel's face is livid, and Sam knows he's got to get a handle on the situation before it spins out of control again.

"Bottom line is, we've gotta talk to this Matthias, and find out what he knows," he interjects quickly, relieved when Cas and Ramiel both nod.

"Well," Dean says, slapping his palms together, "let's get this show on the road then. Rami, where do we find this joker?"

"Matthias does not like jokes," Ramiel says, and Sam bites back a laugh. Dean opens his mouth to retort, then shakes his head, apparently thinking better of it.

"He was in the Garden, last I saw him," Ramiel continues, shuffling through some of the papers cluttered on the desk. "But he was hidden from me. There's a cave - it is rumored to be the very place the Serpent hid after tempting Eve, before he was banished from Eden. I believe he's holed up there."

"So how do we get there?" Bobby asks, and Ramiel shakes his head.

"We don't. Death is the only avenue to Heaven for all of you, and the chances of any of you actually getting there are highly unlikely." Dean makes a face at that, but Sam has to admit Rami has a point; they've got one former-vessel-of-Satan, Hell's one-time Dungeon Master, a Fallen angel who's pissed off pretty much everyone in Heaven and Hell and everywhere in between, and a hunter who's soul belongs to an ambiguously gay demon.

"Go team," Sam mutters, not realizing he's spoken aloud until everyone turns to look at him.

"We must lure Matthias to us," Ramiel says, giving Sam an odd look before turning back to the pages in front of him. "The Garden is only accessible to me, but with this map, I may be able to find the Serpent's cave. If I can somehow get a message to Matthias, I may be able to lead him to the holding room."

"The what?" Dean asks.

"The Beautiful Room," Cas says, a distasteful look on his face. "Zachariah's masterpiece. It's still there?" he asks Ramiel.

"Yes. And if we can get him inside…"

"He won't be able to leave," Cas finishes.

"Not without help, at least," Ramiel says, and Sam doesn't like the ominous sound of that.

Dean nods. "All right. Time's wastin'. How do we get there?"

"My Grace is replenished enough for me to carry you there, and Bobby, too. It is too dangerous for my brother to venture that close to the Heavenly realm; Samuel can remain here with him."

"Like hell -" Cas says, sounding more like Dean every day, and it throws Sam so much it takes him a moment to process what Ramiel has said.

"Wait, what?" Sam says, pushing himself out of his seat and crossing to the desk. "Why the hell would I stay here? You need me."

"What I need is for you to remain here with Castiel and to not question my authority, Samuel."

"Fuck your authority," Sam says, leaning over and bracing his hands on the desk. "I can fight, Ramiel. You know they're not going to just hand Matthias over on a silver platter. You need me," Sam repeats, and Ramiel's jaw clenches so hard Sam can see the vein jumping at his temple.

"Leave us," Ramiel says, and it's clear he means everyone but Sam, even though his eyes never leave Sam's face. Sam stares back, though he sees Bobby out of the corner of his eye, ushering a very annoyed Dean and a very pissed off Cas out of the room.

Ramiel stays quiet until they're gone, and then he stands up slowly, pulling himself up to his full height and looking at Sam with a silent challenge in his eyes.

"You should not disobey me, Samuel."

Sam pushes himself away from the desk, pacing to the other side of the room with a frustrated laugh. "You're full of shit, Rami, you know that?"

"I did not haul your ungrateful ass out of the pit only to die fighting a senseless battle."

"No," Sam sneers, whirling on him. "You dragged me out to fulfill the prophecy that started this whole cluster fuck in the first place."

Ramiel's expression doesn't change, but Sam thinks he sees a flicker of something deep in the angel's golden eyes. Sam clenches his jaw, then, shaking his head, turns toward the door.

"Do not walk away from me, Samuel," Ramiel warns, voice low and threatening in a way that sends a shiver up Sam's spine.

"I've already got an overbearing big brother, Rami," Sam says, facing the doorway, head turned over his shoulder. "I don't need another one."

Sam blinks, and suddenly Ramiel is at his back, almost-but-not-quite touching him, his nose just millimeters away from Sam's cheek.

"Then what do you need, Samuel?" he hisses, breath ghosting over the shell of Sam's ear.

"Nothing," Sam whispers, a little unsteady. "From you, nothing."

"You'll be killed," Ramiel says, and Sam feels him trail a finger up his back in a feather-light touch.

Sam swallows, hard. "Then I'll have died fighting."

"It will all have been for naught," Ramiel says, curling his fingers around Sam's shoulder so tight it hurts. Sam squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to flinch, and finally, a long moment later, the pressure lessens, and Sam can breathe again.

"No," Sam says, and Ramiel slides his hand away.

"Have it your way," he says, voice clipped and full of frost that chills Sam all over.

"I always do," he says, turning to face the angel, hoping he doesn't look as shaken as he feels.

Ramiel won't meet his gaze. "You are a selfish man, Samuel Winchester. You are misguided and reckless and horribly overconfident of your abilities."

Sam shrugs. "That's what they tell me."

"You will be your own downfall."

"Or yours," Sam says, then sucks in a breath, not sure why he's said that.

Ramiel doesn't even flinch, but when he looks at Sam, his eyes are burning hotter than Sam's ever seen.

"You already are, Sam."

**oOo**

The Beautiful Room is not so beautiful anymore. The walls are stained yellow, and Dean can see the plaster chipping in the corners. Spider webs are strung from wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-floor, and thick gray dust hangs like a carpet over every surface. Dean isn't sure if it's because of a lack of physical upkeep, or if it's some sort of psychic reflection of the state of Heaven right now. Either way, it gives him a creepy-crawly feeling at the base of his spine, and he doesn't like it one damn bit.

He's sitting across from Cas, trying to find a comfortable spot on the sagging, broken-down loveseat, while Sam and Bobby guard the door, waiting for Ramiel to return with Matthias.

"You shouldn't have come," Dean says for the hundredth time, and he's sick of saying it, so he knows Cas must be sick of hearing it.

The scowl the former angel gives him confirms his suspicion. "I can fight, Dean. I have not forgotten everything about my former life."

Dean shakes his head, swiping a finger through the grime on the coffee table and then wiping it disgustedly on his jeans. "You might remember the moves, Cas, but you don't have the mojo to back them up."

"I am not a nineteen pound weakling!"

"I think you mean ninety pound weakling," Dean says, and Cas jumps out of his chair.

"Do not tell me what I mean!" he shouts, drawing concerned looks from Sam and Bobby. Dean grimaces and gives them a what're you gonna do? shrug, and finally, they look away.

"Cas -"

"I have had enough of you telling me what to do," Cas growls, sinking back into his seat and leaning forward so the others can't hear. "I pulled you out of Hell, remember? I have watched lifetimes go by, I have seen centuries come and go, thousands of them, before you were even a speck inside your mother's womb. I have watched the rise and fall of empires, I have seen entire nations crumble and be rebuilt." Cas pauses for breath, and Dean hears the tiny catch before he speaks again. "I rebuilt you, limb by limb, infusing every one of your cells with my essence, with my life. I have seen the very best and the very worst of humanity, and I have seen both in you, Dean. So do not think I am naïve. Do not think I am weak. And do not think I cannot do this without you."

Dean sits there, dumbstruck, unable to construct any sort of coherent response, unable to think at all past the echoing of Cas's last words in his head. To his horror, he feels a burn in the back of his throat, and he looks away quickly before Cas can see his eyes go bright.

"Sorry," he mutters, knowing it's pretty lame as far as apologies go, but he sees Cas relax out of the corner of his eye, shoulders going slack as he leans back in his chair. Dean swallows down the lump in his throat, and when he looks back at Cas, there's an expression of peaceful calm on his face.

"Cas, I really -"

"Be quiet, Dean," Cas says, and so Dean is. Something between them has broken, but not in a bad way. More like the breaking of a fever, or a dam that's been holding back fresh, life-giving water. Dean doesn't know how he knows that, but it's a feeling as bone-deep as his love for Sam, or his respect for Bobby, and so he accepts it without question. Whatever this feeling is, it's simple and pure and easy, and right now, that's enough.

Dean doesn't get much chance to revel in this new peace, because suddenly the room is filled with flashing light and an earsplitting buzz that's followed by the sound of screams. Dean is on his feet and moving in an instant, running to the center of the room, where Ramiel is locked in a violent collision with no fewer than eight angels.

He charges, Cas right beside him, and sees Sam and Bobby leap into the fray from the other side. He kicks out hard at the nearest angel, a girl with waist-length blonde hair and eyes the color of the sea after a storm. She rounds on him, mouth open wide as she shouts out what can only be a war cry, pulling a twelve-inch dagger from a sheath around her thigh.

Dean dodges the first thrust, coming back with a punch that snaps her head to the side for a brief second, giving him the time he needs to yank his own knife out of his pants. Her eyes widen when she recognizes the angel-made weapon, and Dean reminds himself to thank Ramiel, cocky bastard though he is, for bringing them an arsenal guaranteed to do some serious damage to his brethren.

"Where did you get that?" she hisses, crouching down low in a fighting stance and eyeing the knife warily.

"This?" Dean says, flicking the knife casually in his hand. "Oh, this is nothing. This, on the other hand," he says, reaching over his shoulder and unsheathing the sword strapped to his back, "this is probably going to fuck your shit up."

"We are betrayed," she says, as Dean begins to circle her, the tip of his sword pointed directly at her throat. "Hand Ramiel over to us, fight with us, and we may let you live."

"Yeah, that's a fantastic offer and all," Dean says, moving the blade forward until it makes contact with the hollow of her throat, a tiny ruby-red bead of blood appearing there, "but I'm gonna go ahead and say hell no, angel-bitch."

She smirks, though Dean can see there's fear in her eyes. "You may have your shiny toys to protect you, Winchester, but you do not have our strength." With that, she kicks the sword away and launches herself at Dean so fast he can barely move before she's on him, clawing and spitting like a wildcat, and it's all he can do to keep his grip tight on the sword hilt. The knife has gone skittering away under the coffee table, and she smiles in triumph as she knocks Dean to the ground, her weight like a ton of bricks on top of him so that he's barely able to breathe.

He can hear the shouts of the others and the clank of metal on metal, but it fades into a dull buzz as the angel presses down, crushing his lungs. His consciousness is ebbing fast, and there are spots dancing in front of his darkening vision. Gathering up the last of his strength, Dean tightens his grip on the sword, then swings it up, slamming the hilt against her temple, feeling the sickening crunch of bone as she hurtles off of him and tumbles into a chair, eyes closed and unmoving.

Sucking in a pained breath, Dean pulls himself to his feet, keeping his hand wrapped around the sword. Across the room, Sam and Bobby are taking on three angels, backing them into the corner before thrusting their knives up through two of the angels' throats, a blinding white light pouring out as they shudder and fall. The third tries to struggle free, but Bobby uses his sword to hold him down as Sam finishes the job.

Cas is fighting a burly-looking angel with arms as big around as his head, their swords colliding with such force they're sending off sparks of golden light. Pressing a hand to his stomach, Dean limps up behind the angel, still finding it hard to get a deep breath. Before the angel can sense his presence, Dean has grabbed his freakishly huge arms, pinning him in place. He can't hold him more than a second, but it's enough for Cas to regroup, pushing forward with his knife, and Dean has to lean his head back as the blade sinks through the angel's neck and out the other side, blood-streaked metal inches from Dean's face.

They turn to where Ramiel is battling the last two angels, a woman and a man, with a sword in each hand. Dean takes pause, a little in awe, and wonders vaguely if Ramiel can teach him to fight like that.

Sam is charging forward into the mix, as the angels begin to overpower Ramiel. The man turns and holds out a hand, and Sam goes flying across the room, slamming into the wall and sinking down with a dazed expression on his face. Bobby runs to his side, checking him over, and Dean blinks, feeling the room start to sway.

He barely hears Cas asking, "Are you all right, Dean?" and then he notices that he's still seeing those same spots in front of his eyes. He looks over at Ramiel, and see that the woman has him down on his knees. The man's foot is on his wrist, keeping that sword flat against the floor, and the woman kicks the other one out of his hand.

Sam crawls forward, pulling himself toward Ramiel just as the woman lowers a hand to the angel's forehead.

"Rami!" Sam shouts, reaching out and grasping at air as the three angels vanish in a flurry of air and debris.

Bobby picks Sam up off the ground, helping him to his feet. Sam looks shellshocked, staring at the spot where Ramiel disappeared like he can't figure out what happened.

Dean is aware of a hand on his arm, and he looks down, feeling a little detached. His head is as light as a balloon, floating up somewhere above his body, and while he knows he's feeling pain, it isn't really registering in his brain.

He lifts his arm and coughs into his elbow, huge, wracking heaves that shake him from head to foot, and when he pulls his arm away, he's a little startled to see bright red blood staining his sleeve.

"That's not good," he says, listing over to the side. Cas's arm is around him, and Dean can hear his panicked voice calling his name over and over.

"S'okay," he says dreamily, closing his eyes. "Just gonna sleep now, okay?"

Cas's hand is on his face, and Dean thinks that feels kinda nice, but sleep feels even better, so when the blackness rushes up to meet him, he sinks into it, grateful for the reprieve.