Here's the next chapter, from Cas's POV as promised. Thanks to all who have read, reviewed, and kept up with the story- it means a lot to me!

Cas POV

Sometimes I wonder how humans make it through a single day, let alone a lifetime. There are so many minuscule things to consider, so many ways a human body can break down if it is not properly taken care of.

I find myself constantly on the brink of exhaustion, especially after the daily training that the Winchesters have insisted I partake in. I understand the intent behind it, of course, so I do not complain. I practice with the angel blade the most, sparring against both brothers until sweat beads across my forehead and I am in danger of collapsing. But still, I don't stop. I know that Sam and Dean only wish for me to be able to protect myself.

We all neglect to mention the fact that even if I can develop the skills of a well-trained hunter, it would do little to stop the onslaught of the thousands of vengeful angels out for my head.

And I neglect to tell the Winchesters of my plan to leave them.

It seems a heartless thing to do. To abandon them again in their time of need. But without my grace, without my power, I am of little use to the Winchesters. All I am now is a target. And I cannot allow any harm to come to either of them, simply because the angels want me. So I have decided to leave. Tonight.

"You okay, Cas?" Dean asks around a mouthful of steak. He wipes unconsciously at the juice that dribbles down his chin, fixing me with that all-knowing stare of his.

"Yes, I'm fine," I reply, returning my gaze to my own food. I had thought that I had been able to maintain some sense of normal behavior today, despite my plans for later, but Dean, perceptive as ever, has apparently still managed to find some small flaw in my performance.

"Sure, yeah. That's why you've spent the last hour scraping food back and forth across your plate," Dean smirks, rolling his eyes at me. "Seriously, what's up with you today?"

I glance up at the three faces staring back at me around the table. The three people I care about most in the world. I cannot bear to disappoint them again, even though I know it is inevitable. I cannot risk their lives for mine.

"Dean. The world has once again been plunged into chaos, and once again, it is my fault," I grind out. "There also seems to be no possible way to fix what I've done. So if you ever wonder why I may not seem particularly happy, that is most likely the reason." I watch guiltily as the shock and hurt sweeps across Dean's face before he is able to recover himself.

"Jeez Cas, take it easy," he tries to joke, "just making sure it's nothing more than the usual crap."

I nod but continue to stare at my plate, still covered with two thirds of my steak and an untouched baked potato. No one speaks for the remainder of the meal, all of us perhaps contemplating the things I've said. And what I've said is true.

Even after weeks of translating, Kevin seems no closer to finding a way to cast the angels back into Heaven. And there has been no advancement on the demon front either.

And I am powerless to do anything. About any of it.

And it kills me.

My chair scrapes loudly against the tiles as I stand abruptly, practically running from the room. I can no longer stare at the faces of the people I have let down. I can no longer be a threat to them.

"Sam, leave it," I hear Dean yell, his fork clanging noisily back onto his plate.

"Cas?" Sam calls, following close behind me despite his brother's wishes. His voice echoes off the walls of the long corridor that leads to the room I have been calling my own for the past few weeks. The first few nights in that room had been the hardest. Sleeping was a strange and unsettling sensation, one I have yet to get used to, despite my brief time as a human just a few years ago. I slam the door shut behind me, sliding the lock through in one swift motion and backing into the opposite corner, making sure the bag of clothes and supplies I had packed earlier is still hidden beneath my bed.

"Cas, come on," Sam says, pounding his fist against the door. I'm almost surprised it doesn't splinter and break. Sam's health has improved dramatically, and he is back up to full strength despite no longer ingesting angel blood. For that I am grateful. If Sam had begun to regress, I know what Dean's choice would've been.

The pounding stops, and I strain to make out the whispers I can now hear behind the door.

"Sam just leave it alone. He's still adjusting. He just needs time," Dean mutters. He sounds almost as exhausted as I feel.

"I get that Dean, but he can't just shut out all these new human emotions. He probably needs to talk these things out- you know, kind of like what we should be doing. What we've failed to do in the past. I just don't want to see him bottle all this up, only to crack apart at the seams. We still need him." Sam's words catch me off guard, and I rock back against the far wall of my room, letting myself sink to the floor. They need me? But I'm useless...

Dean's aggravated sigh pulls me back to their conversation, and as much as I ache to hear more, my decision has already been made. I shove off against the wall, flinging the door open to the two surprised faces of the Winchesters, trying to slide one of the many masks Dean wears so well across my own face.

They both stare at me, waiting for me to speak.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I announce lamely, shuffling back down the hall. I feel their eyes on me, but I don't turn to look, keeping my own eyes trained on the bathroom to my left. I reach the door and shut it behind me, running a hand across my forehead.

Sighing, I turn to face the mirror, pulling back slightly when I notice the reddish tinge that now rims my eyelids and the wrinkles that have embedded themselves into the corners of my mouth, pulling it down into what looks like a permanent frown. I rub a hand along my chin, caught up in the feel of the small hairs that bristle against my fingers- the beginnings of a beard.

When I finally emerge from the bathroom a short time later, I have managed to compose myself. I walk back to the kitchen, expecting some kind of confrontation, but it is only Dean in the room now, clearing off my half eaten plate and placing it carefully in the sink. He inclines his head toward me, but doesn't say anything. I move to sit on one of the stools across from him, watching as he reaches to clean the first dish, soap already seeping from the sponge in his hand.

We stay silent like that for a long time. Finally, when Dean has dried the last of the silverware, he turns to face me.

"Look man, I know this is scary. I know you're going through a lot right now and you feel like you're to blame. But every single one of us played a part..." I start to interrupt, but Dean cuts me off. "It's true Cas. We've all made mistakes. And Metatron is an evil son of a bitch. But we're gonna get him. No matter what it takes, we will fix this. Doesn't matter what condition you're in right now, we still need you on board with us, okay?"

I almost forget about everything then.

I almost run back to that room and start throwing my packed clothes back into the drawers of my dresser with the promise that I'll never even think of leaving again.

But I don't.

Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing there was some way to avoid doing what I know I have to do. Wishing Dean had never opened his mouth just now.

I know he won't forgive me this time. I've left him broken and alone so many times before, and I know he won't be able to understand how I could leave again after everything. But as long as Sam and Dean and Kevin remain out of harms way, out of the way of the angels, then I know I have done my job.

I manage a small nod and an artificial smile. "Okay."

Next chapter is Dean's POV. Dun dun dun... =P