Sam lay on his back on the motel bed, caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness. He felt drained. His laptop lay opened on the bed not far away, but he resisted the urge to pick it up and refresh the search engines he'd set working. Nothing would be different. Demon omens were still lighting the States up like a Christmas tree, yet none of them were his brother.

Besides, he was so comfortable. He had been driving for fourteen? sixteen straight hours? It felt good to stretch out his aching back at last. And thanks to a drive thru at a nearby Biggerson's, his stomach was comfortably stuffed. He just wanted to lie here in this dark, anonymous room and sleep for about a week.

His phone rang.

With a monumental effort, Sam managed not to throw the damn thing across the room with a loud, protracted groan. Instead, he groped blindly for where he'd chucked it somewhere on the bed, and brought it to his ear. Then he remembered pressing the 'ACCEPT' button was usually kinda helpful.

"Hello?" God, was that his voice? He sounded awful.

"Sam?"

He sat up, his heart leaping.

"Dean?"

"No, Sam. It's, uh, it's Cas."

Sam gave his head a shake, annoyed with himself. "Sorry, Cas, I was just ... long drive."

"I understand."

There was a pause.

"It's good to hear your voice, buddy," Sam said, and he meant it. Something like a smile twisted his lips.

"It's good to hear your voice too, Sam. I've, uh, I've missed you."

"Yeah. Yeah, you too, Cas."

"Listen, Sam ... about the last time we spoke –"

Sam waved a hand, brushing the apology away. "Cas, listen, you don't need to apologise. We were both a bit ... out of sorts, I guess. I'm sorry I was such a jerk. Truce?"

"Truce." He could hear the smile in Cas's voice.

"Cas?" Sam asked tentatively after a moment's hesitation.

"Yeah?"

"How, um ... how are you doing? Grace-wise?"

There was a very disconcerting pause.

"Not ... good," Cas replied at last.

Sam bowed his head for a moment, screwing his eyes tight shut. He was losing everyone. "How long?"

"It's ... hard to be sure. A few weeks, I think, if I take it easy."

A few weeks. Sam felt despicable. How could have let this happen? Cas had 'a few weeks' left to live because he had been so obsessed with finding Dean he'd barely even talked to his best friend in months. But what could he do? He hadn't come across any angels, even if he could work out how to steal a Grace. And even that would a temporary solution.

"Cas, I'm sorry. I should've been there to help you solve this. I've checked the lore, but I just ... there's nothing I ... I'm sorry, Cas."

"There was nothing you could have done, Sam. It's okay. I ... I've accepted it."

"But you don't have to die, Cas. You know you don't. I may not be able to help you, but you can."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You're in Heaven. Angels are being mysteriously murdered – with their Graces sucked out." He hesitated a fraction of a second. "You could take one."

When Cas didn't respond, Sam continued, his voice becoming more animated as he thought about it.

"Just find some angel who's never really done anything – or one who's a threat. Hell, kill Metatron, do us all a favour. Take his Grace, and live. Then we can sort this Dean situation out together."

"Sam. What's happened to you?" The sorrow in Cas's voice brought Sam up short. His brows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"Since when does Sam Winchester, the man who spent his life saving people, so eagerly condone murder?"

Sam blinked. It wasn't murder – it was necessary.

"Cas, you don't get yourself another Grace, you'll die."

"Yes. But at least I won't die a monster."

Sam rose to his feet, pressing the phone harder to his ear as he paced the cramped motel room.

"Monster? Cas, who isn't a monster nowadays! Dean is, I am, why not you? You'll die if you don't – do you want to die? Is that it?" Anger heated his tone and quickened his steps. "Life's getting too messy for you so you're just gonna quit? Leave us down here, alone? At the mercy of all those angel dicks? Not to mention the hundred damn demons that are crawling out of the woodwork! God damn it, Cas, we need you. You can't just up and leave. You can't abandon us, not now."

"Sam."

Sam huffed an angry breath. "What?"

"I don't want to leave you. Or Dean. But I have to. I have killed more angels than any other living creature. I can't bring myself to slit another's throat just to save myself. I should have died long ago."

Sam scoffed, almost laughing. "'Should have died a long time ago'?" He quoted in disbelief. "Cas, who do you think you're talking to? I should've died when I was six months old, never mind the time I got stabbed, or zapped or stuck in Hell or whatever. We all should have died a long time ago. Hell, most of the time I think it woulda been better if Dean and I had never been born, but we were, and we're still here, so you wanna know what you do? How you deal with all that?"

"How?"

"You make things right. You make up for all the crap you've pulled, all the lives you've ruined. You fight. And you never give up."

Back in Heaven, Cas sighed. He knew Sam was right. It wasn't in a soldier's heart to ever truly give up. But if he didn't draw the line here, then where? How far would he go? What if he returned to the insanity of a few years ago, when he had released the Leviathans so he could be god? No. He would not kill another angel for their Grace. His life was worth no more than theirs.

But Sam didn't want to hear that.

Nor would he appreciate Cas pointing out the hypocrisy of his words. He had hardly been 'making things right' lately. But Cas understood.

"You're right, Sam. I'll see what I can do about a new Grace," he lied smoothly.

"Good. Glad to hear it, Cas."

"I, um ... I should go. There's still a lot of work to do, up here."

"Yeah. Likewise." Sam's voice was more distant now, disconnected. Cas wondered if he was resigning himself to another night alone. He wished his wings were healed. If only he could fly to his friend, allow them both the comfort of the other's presence. They had been alone too long.

"Goodbye Sam. Take care of yourself."

"You two, Cas. Talk soon, okay?"

Cas smiled. "I'd like that."

He hung up.

That phone call had not gone the way Cas had hoped. He felt burdened rather than comforted.

Sam was right, though. He couldn't leave the Winchesters now.

Cas put a hand to his stomach as the burning that was slowly consuming him throbbed angrily. His breath caught as he closed his eyes against the pain.

He didn't want to leave. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to.

As the pain receded somewhat, Cas raised his head, struck by a sudden idea. It was a pathetic idea, yes, and certainly selfish, but it would give him time. And no one would have to die.

Cas stood up. He needed to find Hannah.