AN: Thank you for reading! Also, I would greatly value some opinions. So…for later chapters I've already gotten at least one question for whether or not Sabriel will be a pairing. I've thought about it, and…I just don't really see it happening. If anything, I'm leaning more towards…Lubriel? What are we calling Lucifer/Gabriel? Anyway, thoughts on this? It's still up in the air, but as I get closer to Gabriel making an appearance, the more solid my choice has to be.

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Waiting for Salvation
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The hours had passed slowly for Dean. Everything hurt. Every ache, every sore muscle and gaping wound. He coughed up another mouthful of blood onto the floor. He watched how the fire reflected off the fresh splatter and wondered if Bobby would be angry with him for getting the floor so dirty. Humans worried about that sort of thing.

He hadn't moved since he'd been left alone, too afraid of using any more energy than was required to keep his body from dying. Footsteps echoed through the basement, and Dean wondered if Sam was coming back to yell at him. He certainly deserved it.

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Dean looked up to find Bobby staring in disgust.

'Jesus, kid… Pull yourself together!' Bobby shouted. He had been told just what Dean had done to himself, but he had figured that Dean would have healed himself by now. He stumbled when the ground beneath him shook. He looked up in time to catch Dean's angry glare switch to pure panic.

Dean spat up more blood and whined lowly as he curled more into himself. That was it. There wasn't much left anymore. He wouldn't be able keep his vessel alive any longer. Maybe a couple hours if he was lucky. Slowly, he looked up at Bobby. 'Sorry,' he whispered.

Bobby grimaced as his eyes took in the damage Dean has caused to himself. 'Nothin' to be sorry for…just…get better an' we'll talk,' he said. 'Why don't you heal yourself?'

Dean shrugged. 'Can't anymore… I never got to thank you,' Dean said, breaking off in a ragged cough.

'For what?' Bobby asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his voice.

'You were more of a father to me than John ever was,' Dean replied. He looked back at the floor and shook his head. 'You… Playin' catch instead of teaching me to shoot? That was probably the best day of my childhood… For the first time since Mary…Mom… You helped ease the pain.'

Bobby's eyes softened. 'Someone had to take care of you kids.'

Dean doubled over in another coughing fit. He moaned loudly as he pulled his wings in tight. They hurt so much. It wasn't the familiar burn of the fire. And it was much more intense than the last time they were sore.

'Is there something I can get you?' Bobby asked. 'Within reason.'

Dean shook his head, wiping his mouth with his hand. 'Tombstone?'

'Want me to pipe in some music?'

Dean looked up. 'I…I wouldn't mind Hey Jude…if you got it,' he replied, barely above a whisper.

Bobby nodded and turned to leave. 'I'll see what I can do.'

Dean watched Bobby disappear back upstairs and sighed. He felt so useless. They were in the middle of the apocalypse, and his supposed friends had him locked away. Why couldn't they have waited?

'Because they love me,' Dean muttered to himself, finally able to properly break from the demonic energies clouding his thoughts. He still craved more, desperately wanted to break out and hunt down a demon, but he was finally far enough along to ignore it.

The last time he had come down from his demon high, he sulked for over four centuries. He wondered what he would do this time around. He could already feel the sorrow and loneliness closing in on him, suffocating his will.

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It was early the next morning when a high pitched noise drifted up from the basement. Sam and Bobby looked around in confusion as the sound grew higher and louder. The windows began to vibrate, and the lights flickered.

'The hell is that?!' Bobby shouted, covering his ears. He looked over to see Castiel staring at nothing, a soft smile on his face.

Sam cringed, trying to block out the noise. 'Is it Dean?'

Castiel nodded as windows burst in their frames and light bulbs popped. Beside him, the TV exploded into the room, but he didn't notice, too wrapped up in listening to the beautiful song. He had heard stories about the Seraphim and how their voices were the most wondrous sound to grace existence. He had never thought nor hoped to actually hear one sing.

The song faded into more of a low hum, and Castiel turned to face Sam and Bobby. He frowned at the pained expressions the humans wore. 'He was singing,' he explained. 'You may not fully understand, but…to hear Dean…Seraphiel sing…no experience could compare.'

Sam winced as looked around. The sound wasn't as loud as before, but it was just as annoying. A high-pitched whine, just on the edge of hearing. 'Sorry, Cas, but…can you make him stop?' he asked.

Bobby nodded in agreement, sticking his fingers in his ears and back out. 'It's annoying, and it hurts.'

Castiel sighed heavily and nodded. 'Yes. Humans do have difficulty with our real voices… I'll ask him to stop. He may not be in his body, so I suggest the two of you remain up here,' he said before vanishing to the basement. He reappeared just outside the panic room and stared at the sight that greeted him.

Dean's body lay lifeless in the middle of the floor. Curled protectively around him was Seraphiel, humming softly as he petted his vessel's cheek with the tip of his tail.

Castiel stared in awe. None of the stories did the older angle justice. The inner light from his Grace was dim, certainly not enough to overpower the light cast by the holy fire. His wyvern-shaped body was sleek with scales that glittered like the night sky; his belly shone brightly in the palest hue of blue, the same color as the feathers shaping his ears. Castiel could just imagine what the blood-red wings would have looked like untouched.

His eyes drifted down to the long, pointed talons that had ripped into so many of their brothers and sisters. His gaze followed the burning mane that ran the serpentine length of Seraphiel's body and rested on the tip of the tail. A small, hollow space was all that remained of where Seraphiel's blade had been held.

Without Seraphiel blocking him, Castiel could judge the other angel's true size, and he was…small. Smaller than any other angel he had met. Small, swift, and deadly. He finally understood how one angel could have caused so much damage.

'Why did you let them do this to you?' Castiel whispered. 'You could have escaped. Fought them off…'

Seraphiel's head shot up, and bright green eyes stared. He ducked his head and looked away. 'Because Father commanded it,' he quietly replied. He winced as the fan above him shook from his voice.

Castiel frowned and tilted his head, quickly translating the older Enochian dialect. 'How are you feeling?'

Seraphiel nudged his vessel with his long snout. 'I can't fix it,' he said. He looked back up at Castiel. 'I tried…kept it alive as long as I could, but… I don't even have the power to keep a corpse moving. If wanted to kill me, now would be the best time.'

With a wave of his hand, Castiel lowered the flames. He stepped into the room, and Seraphiel struggled to stand. He watched sadly as Seraphiel scurried away and huddled against the wall. He approached the vessel and knelt down, giving it all his attention as he placed his hand on it. He looked up when he heard the soft click of claws on the floor. He smiled reassuringly at Seraphiel's curious look.

'You're not…getting rid of me?' Seraphiel asked.

'Of course not, Dean,' Castiel replied. His smile widened as Seraphiel gave an excited flap of his wings. Seraphiel's Grace slammed into him, filling him with love and thankfulness. Castiel breathed out a sigh of relief as he focused back on Dean's body. It had worked. Seraphiel's Grace was void of demonic energies. There was still the taint of Hell and sin, but it was purely Seraphiel. His Grace felt lighter, brighter, and full of so many interesting promises.

Castiel glanced up from healing Dean's body. He blushed at the prone position Seraphiel had taken.

Seraphiel was stretched out on his back, exposing his pale stomach to Castiel. His wings were spread out, framing him and what he had to offer. His tail curled and flicked excitedly as he held Castiel's stare.

Castiel couldn't keep his eyes from wandering over Seraphiel's body. He could easily imagine himself wrapping his own body around Seraphiel, nibbling on feathered ears. Finally, his eyes rested on the red wings, a glint of bright, pale blue shining out from the smallest stump. That hadn't been there before. Not that he could recall. He remembered the pale feather in his pocket—his reminder that Seraphiel was worth redeeming.

'Oh…uh… S-sorry…,' Seraphiel quickly apologized, folding his wings and rolling over into a sitting position. He stared at the floor as he pulled his Grace away from Castiel's. 'I just… I thought maybe… I dunno.'

Castiel reached out for Seraphiel's Grace and tightly embraced it. 'No, I'm sorry,' he said. 'I wasn't expecting… Certainly not from someone of your ranking.

Seraphiel snorted and shook his head, sending a flashing wave down his mane. 'What rank?' he bitterly replied.

Castiel stood and gestured to the body on the floor. 'Everything is as it should be,' he said. 'Dean, I… I would be honored.'

A blinding flash filled the basement as Seraphiel reclaimed his vessel. He took a moment to adjust to once again being confined in the human body. Everything was working properly. Castiel had done a great job repairing the damage Dean had caused. He tried to pull himself up, but found he didn't have the strength. He gave up and stared up at Castiel. He was having a hard time focusing his eyes. He had no power, and his vessel had no residual energy of its own.

'How do you feel?' Castiel asked.

'Dead,' Dean slurred. 'Numb…hungry. Haven't eaten since yesterday.'

'You shouldn't need to—'

'You might not need to eat, but I do,' Dean said, cutting Castiel off. 'Especially when I'm this low… I can't power my body on my own.'

'I would offer to help, but…I don't want anything but your own power to be flowing through you,' Castiel said. He traced his fingers along Dean's jaw and to his lips. 'I…I really do think this will work.'

Dean let his eyes fall shut. He panicked when the feeling of sleep began to pull on him. His eyes flew open, and he reached desperately for Castiel. He clung onto Castiel's arm as his heart raced. 'I don't wanna fall asleep,' he whispered. 'Not now…not yet… I… I need to talk to Sam first.' His eyes were wide and pleading as he stared at Castiel. 'I can't be out of it when I… Not with the way I left things.'

Castiel nodded and pulled Dean's arm over his shoulder as he helped Dean to stand. 'Very well. But after, you need to rest.'

The pair slowly made their way upstairs, Dean constantly shaking his head to avoid sleep. 'Need some coffee,' he mumbled as they reached the landing and started down the hall to the study.

Sam stood and rushed to Dean's side the moment they entered the room. 'Dean! Are you okay? Are you…'

'Sane?' Dean replied. 'Yeah, I guess so… Tired as fuck. And hungry.'

'There's a Tombstone in the freezer,' Bobby said. 'Help yourself when yer ready.'

Dean squinted at Bobby in confusion before remembering what he had said earlier. 'Oh… Huh. Good one,' he mumbled.

Sam pulled a face at the reminder of what Dean had done, his eyes traveling over his brother's neck to make sure there was no lingering damage.

Dean caught Sam's stare and looked away. 'Sorry 'bout earlier… I…can't say it was all a lie. But I…I am sorry you had to find out about it that way.'

Sam nodded, not sure what he could say or do to lessen the tension in the air. 'Is… Are you sure she's in Heaven?' he quietly asked.

Dean's eyes flicked up to Sam. 'Yeah. Soul like that… Um…when… When you, uh, die…I can, well…someone can take you see her. Between me an' Cas, we're bound to know someone that'd be willing to help out.'

Sam was struck by the thought. He looked away, trying to understand what Dean was offering. He couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea that he could potentially see Jess again. Granted, much later—he hoped. He still missed her, but he had moved on. 'Thanks. I guess.'

He looked back at Dean when a soft snore answered him. He shook his head as he looked over Dean's body. The blood stains on Dean's jeans were the only evidence of what had happened. 'Is he gonna be okay?'

Castiel adjusted his grip on Dean. 'I think a month would be enough time for him to regain a minimal amount of energy. He should be able to tap into Heaven by then,' he replied.

'So he's outta commission until then?' Bobby asked. He huffed at Castiel short nod. 'Shit… We got a call from Ellen while you were down there. Looks like it's just you 'n' me, Sam.' He glanced at Castiel, measuring him up. 'Unless you wanna lend a hand?'

'Someone should keep an eye on Dean. In my experience, he's impatient,' Castiel said, earning an agreeing grunt from Bobby. 'He may not be able to fly or use his power, but…I still would not trust him being left alone.'

'Then stay by the phone,' Bobby said as he motioned for Castiel to follow him.

Castiel handed Dean over to Sam before following Bobby into the kitchen and to the set of labeled phones.

'Do not answer any of these. They're already set up with voicemail, so don't worry about it. Dean can answer 'em when he's awake. The only one you need to worry 'bout is this one,' Bobby said as he placed a cordless phone into Castiel's hand. 'You uh…you do know how to answer a phone, right?'

'I've seen it done, yes.'

'Good. If we end up in over our heads, you lock him up and come help. Got it?'

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Bobby, but nodded nonetheless.