Author's Note: It has been a week since I updated this, and naturally this means that I accept any and all tirades and/or beatings with sticks that you may decide to carry out upon my digital form. The reasons (or excuses, if we want to be cynical) for the delayed chapter are basically a combination of flu-having, sleep-needing and my ever-present time-suck of a day job.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and please feel free to send me angry PM's if I ever take this long to update again. Deal? Deal.

~ Imogen

Insert obligatory disclaimer re: non-ownership of characters. These lovlies are all Kripke's, all the time.

The steady drip of water did nothing to calm his nerves, and Castiel reached into the sink to twist the faucet, glancing back at his brother with an air of irritation. Whatever it was that Gabriel had come to tell him, he just wanted it to be over with already. Whether he was sitting down or not had absolutely no bearing on the matter, and he turned back to face the archangel with his arms crossed.

"I'd rather stand. Just tell me what it is."

Gabriel clicked his teeth as he tried to work out where to start. He figured the beginning was as good a place as any, and with a sigh, he began.

"When you fell, it wasn't an accident. It was because you wanted it."

"I didn't-"

Castiel's expression was icy and defensive, and Gabriel held up his palms in a pacifying gesture as he continued.

"You can't fall without a reason, Cas. You know that. And I think we both know what your reason was."

"I..."

The words died in Castiel's mouth as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and Gabriel raised his eyebrows.

"The mark you left on him wasn't exactly subtle."

Castiel felt his face burn red, and he cast his eyes down as he tried to shrug it off as nothing.

"The mark was an accident. I didn't even know-"

"Whether you knew or not is beside the point. The point, brother, is that this-you falling-it started from the second you pulled him out."

Thoughts of the moment he had taken hold of Dean in Hell flashed in Castiel's memory, and he tensed his jaw, not wanting to recall the fear, the rage on his friends face in that writhing, endless pit.

Gabriel looked at him meaningfully as he continued.

"He was the reason you fell, but he's also the reason you are not a fallen angel."

This caught Castiel unaware, and he narrowed his eyes at his brother in confusion.

"You're not making any sense."

Downstairs, the door creaked open and footsteps echoed through the house. Castiel jerked his head toward the bathroom door, and Gabriel listened for a moment then waved a hand as if to say, it's no one to worry about, before he continued, pulling his brothers focus back to him.

"You don't have your grace any more, but you are not empty."

The smell of honey chicken and spicy rice carried up the stairs, along with the voices of Sam and Bobby-muffled but familiar-as Gabriel went on.

"What I can see, what Crowley saw... I didn't recognise it at first because it was so... new. And to be honest, I didn't think it was even possible until I spoke with Joshua."

Castiel stood up straighter.

"Joshua? You went to the Garden?"

With a nod, Gabriel settled on the edge of the bath and watched his brother. A million thoughts rushed through Castiel's mind at once, every last one of them centring around the fact that Joshua had been the one to enlighten Gabriel on what was happening to him, and knowing that whatever Joshua knew he knew because his father had told him.

Gabriel waited, and eventually Castiel turned his face up to look at to him. His voice was almost a whisper.

"What is it?"

Gabriel smiled at him with what might have been sympathy had he not seemed so pleased about the news he was about to give, and Castiel braced himself.

"It's a soul, Cas."

Castiel's hands were shaking, and he blinked, trying to find some kind of logical explanation for what Gabriel was telling him. Souls didn't just appear. His first thought was the one that made the most sense, even if it was unlikely.

"Is it... is it Jimmy?"

"No, Cas," Gabriel smiled at him again, and this time his jubilation was whole and sincere, "It's you. It's all you."

Castiel leaned back against the sink, trying to wrap his head around his brothers words. Unprecedented was an understatement. His mouth was dry.

"A soul?"

"Yes."

"A soul?"

His brother nodded, and Castiel turned away, leaning heavily against the sink. He turned on the water without quite knowing why, and the steam rose in white clouds around his head as he tried to think. He shook his head, certain that there was some mistake, that Gabriel had misunderstood something, but all the while feeling like it made sense somehow, that it explained so much.

"But I'm not... only humans have souls. I'm not a-" Castiel caught sight of his brothers expression in the mirror and he cut himself off with a whisper, "am I?"

"One hundred percent human," there was a smile in Gabriel's voice, "you get to live the dream, little brother. And actually live it."

"But why me?" Castiel turned back toward him, his voice wavering.

"Joshua didn't say."

Sam's voice echoed up the stairs, startling him.

"Cas, you up there? We brought dinner!"

Gabriel grinned. He stood up and walked to the door, looking out into the hall before glancing back at his brother.

"Smells good, whatever it is. Shall we?"

"No," Castiel gulped and looked around, unable to focus on anything, "I need to... process."

"I'll tell them you're busy."

With a smile, Gabriel was gone. A split second later Castiel heard his voice booming "Surprise!" downstairs, followed by a glass shattering and Sam's voice muttering something about the Archangel needing a bell. He shook his head and closed the door, shutting out the voices that echoed up the stairs to focus on the one voice echoing in his mind.

It's a soul, Cas.

Castiel stared at himself in the mirror, trying to understand what it meant. He cast his mind back over everything that had happened since he had fallen; the emotions he had felt, the feelings for Dean in particular, desire and hunger and exhaustion, the way the world had dulled and then come back bright and real, the way music could suddenly speak to him in ways he never imagined, and lastly, the pain he had felt with such intensity, like a black hole in his core.

He unbuttoned his borrowed shirt and pressed a hand over the space where his Grace once was, the space that was now filled to overflowing with something just as immense but not nearly as solid, and tried to imagine that he could sense it. He wondered, somewhat vainly, what it looked like. Each soul was different, after all. Dean's, he knew, was the color of burnt amber, though it tended toward gold when he was at his best. He had seen the way its shape stretched out to meet Sam's, Bobby's-even toward Castiel's own grace at times-and how it shifted to a deep, muddy gray whenever the hunter dwelled too heavily on mistakes and regrets.

In Hell, Castiel had seen it before he could even see Dean-it stretched upward, forever upward, as if still trying to reach his brother through the veil of death-and thought, even then, that such a soul was worth risking his life for.

He wondered if his own soul was reaching through the walls now, wondered if it was the same white-blue of his grace, if it was cool to the touch or burning hot.

But such knowledge was beyond his reach. Beyond his comprehension, really, if he was being honest. To view the soul of another, to touch it and feel it's raw power was one thing. But to have one, to be one, was something else entirely.

It's a soul, Cas. It's all you.

A surge of emotion unlike anything he had ever experienced ran through him, and it was all he could do to keep himself standing. Because for whatever reason, his father had seen fit to bless him, to free him from the rigid confines of Heaven and give him this gift. And he felt certain that that is what it was; a gift.

My soul,he thought, and a smile flickered across his face.

"My soul," he repeated the thought out loud.

His lips stretched into an even wider grin, and unable to hold it in, Castiel let out an hysterical giggle. The laughter, combined with the tears that had started falling freely from his wide eyes, made him look utterly mad. He didn't care.

He stood in the over-bright glow of the bathroom lights, time moving on all around him, and prayed.

This time it was not a question. It wasn't a plea for forgiveness or guidance, nor was it benediction.

This time, it was just one simple thought.

Thank you.

Dean threw Bobby's front door wide open with maybe a little more force than was necessary, and it hit the wall with a thud. Sam stuck his head out into the hallway at the sound, chopsticks half raised to his mouth.

"Dean?"

He ignored his brother, walking past him to look into the kitchen. Behind Sam, Dean could see Gabriel sneaking a dumpling from Bobby's takeout box as the older hunter searched the fridge for a beer. The presence of the archangel wasn't enough to distract him from his self-imposed mission, and after determining that Castiel wasn't in the room, he turned back to Sam.

"Where's Cas?"

"Upstairs," Sam frowned, "what is it?"

Dean didn't answer. He took the stairs two at a time. Halfway up, he vaguely heard Gabriel's voice in the kitchen, but the majority of the words were lost under Sam's responding guffaw and what sounded like Bobby choking on his beer.

Once upstairs, he slowed his pace. A light was on in the bathroom, glowing yellow through the cracks around the door, and Dean regarded it from a distance before moving hesitantly forward. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, and that old familiar fear stopped him for a moment, telling him to go back downstairs, telling him this was a bad idea. He'd been listening to that voice for too long.

Shut up, he thought, and before he could back out he reached out to knock lightly on the door.

"Cas?"

Castiel didn't reply, and Dean decided to take the fact that he hadn't been told to go away as an invitation to enter. He pushed the door open, light spilling out into the dark hallway. Castiel was standing in front of the mirror, shirt unbuttoned with his hand pressed flat against the center of his chest, and for a moment Dean worried that his pain had returned.

"Are you okay?"

Castiel nodded and turned to face him.

"Better than."

In the bright light, he could see Castiel's eyes rimmed with red, and if it weren't for the odd smile that played across his features, Dean would have found it difficult to believe him. The guy was practically buzzing, and if the fearful little voices in the back of his mind were still talking, he couldn't hear them. He had messed things up royally; he knew it, and as he had stood in the dark of the scrapyard, holding the alternator in his hands, he had come to a decision. Now was the time to fix things. He took a breath, the right words somehow a lot more difficult to come up with now that he was actually ready to say them.

"Look," he began, stepping into the bathroom and half-closing the door behind him, "I was just..."

"It's okay, Dean. I understand. I'm fine," he paused, and though there was a hint of pain in his eyes he was controlling it, "we're fine."

Castiel smiled at him, and Dean could see that he was telling the truth. It was clear that he was hurt, but he was determined to move past it. Dean knew that as far as Castiel was concerned they could walk out of the bathroom right now, go downstairs, eat Chinese takeout and pretend that what had passed between them in the yard had never happened. The ex-angel would willingly suppress his own feelings just to make Dean happy, and he wouldn't complain, and damn if that wasn't one more reason for Dean to make sure he didn't ever have to do it.

"Really," Castiel went on, "you don't need to-"

Before he could finish speaking, Dean crossed the room and took Castiel's face between his hands, savouring the bewildered look in his eyes for a split second before pressing his lips against Castiel's in a kiss that was at once urgent and hopeful. It wasn't long before Cas was kissing him back, and he felt the ex-angels hands lift to his sides. The light pressure of his wandering fingertips wasn't enough, and Dean stepped in closer, dropping his hands to cover Castiel's, pulling them more firmly against him as he memorized the contours of his lips.

Castiel sighed into him and Dean pulled back a fraction to look him directly in the eyes, the bright blue irises barely visible around his blown-out pupils.

"Sorry."

"For what?" Castiel murmured, his hands still gripping Dean at the waist as he stared back.

Dean's gaze flickered from Castiel's eyes down to his parted lips, and felt a spreading pleasure in the knowledge that he was the one to make the ex-angel look like that. Hungry. Lustful. Positively wanton.

"For not doing that sooner."

Castiel tilted his head to the side, chewing absently on his lower lip as if considering the apology.

"I'll forgive you eventually."

The hunters breath mingled with his and Castiel smiled, running a hand up Dean's side. Dean leaned in then, nearly touching, then pulled back, teasing Castiel with an almost-kiss that had him straining to close the distance.

"But not if you keep this up."

Dean smirked at him and pressed his lips to Castiel's in a lingering kiss.

All of the reservations and fears that Dean had been carrying melted away, and if it weren't for the loud ringing of the phone downstairs, followed closely by the pounding of feet in the hallway, the two of them might have stayed there for hours.