I've sped up Castiel's grace burning out timeline for plot reasons. I hope no one minds too much.
Thanks as always to Rainbow-Fruit-Loop for betaing and to everyone who has read and enjoyed this fic.
Enjoy!
...
Castiel was conferring with Gadreel in the library when Dean tramped back in an hour later, footfalls heavy as he dragged his exhausted body into the room. Cas stood immediately and crossed the room, only to falter just shy of Dean, hanging back with uncertainty.
Dean sighed and gestured with his head for the angel to follow, making his way back to their room without a word. He could hear Castiel's footfalls echo loudly in the hallway, deafening him with every step they took.
Once inside, Dean sat down and gestured for the angel to do the same when he hung back, loitering in the doorway.
He sat.
No one spoke.
"Dean."
Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose when Cas spoke his name and didn't continue, letting the silence between then continue to grow ever more palpable and vast.
"Do you really think this'll help you take down Metatron?" Dean asked, his voice rough.
Castiel hesitated and Dean glanced over to see the angel fiddling with the hem of his coat, the one Dean had bought him on his first day in the bunker, before he lifted his eyes to Dean's.
"Yes." he answered, "But it won't be forever. I promise."
Dean huffed.
"Yeah, you've said that before."
"Dean—"
"It's all right, Cas." he assured. "I understand, I don't like it, but if you think you gotta do it, I gotta believe you know what you're doing, right? Please tell me you know what you're doing."
Cas nodded.
"I do. And I'll come back. I promise." The angel reached for Dean but he ducked out of his reach.
"Don't make promises you can't keep. Please."
Cas' expression was sad as he nodded.
"I'm sorry." he whispered.
Dean smiled despite himself and looked over at the angel.
"So, what's the plan?"
…
As it turned out, the plan was for Gadreel and Cas to take Metatron down and for Dean and Sam to stay out of trouble. Metatron had put out an all systems call letting the entire angel population know that he would be 'gone' and they would use his temporary absence as a chance to break into heaven and destroy the angel tablet. Dean had some problems with said plan which he voiced, loudly, but he was outnumbered three to one and so he begrudgingly kissed Cas goodbye and pointedly ignored his brother as he stalked off to mope. No, he was waiting for Cas.
Definitely no moping.
The next day, Sam rushed in all excited with his laptop and insisted Dean watch the latest trending, viral meme or whatever the fuck it was called.
Two teenaged boys had their phone camera zoomed into the ass of a girl as she walked down the sidewalk ahead of them.
"And that, America, is perfection."
"Yo, dude, that's your sister." the other one said just before a bus came out of nowhere and crashed headlong into the girl, sending her flying across the pavement.
The footage was shaky and indistinct as the boys ran over.
"Oh, my God! She's dead, man! She's dead."
"I'm not so sure about that." A whiny, high-pitched voice spoke and Metatron came into view as he moved forward and bent over the prone body of the woman. One pass of his hand and she was up and the angel was leaning forward, whispering something in her ear.
"Is he ser...is he freaking serious?!" the first boy yelled.
"Did you see that?! Holy...Tell me you just got that." The other agreed, "Dude, what's your name?"
Metatron looked straight at the camera.
"Marv." He answered and the video froze on his meek expression.
"When was this taken?" Dean asked as the video shut off.
"A couple of hours ago." Sam answered. "Muncie, Indiana."
"What did he whisper in her ear?" he wondered as he scrolled back the footage and rewatched the miraculous healing.
…
"The door to heaven is in a playground?"
Castiel regarded the swing set from his seat in the car with trepidation, unsure whether or not his new ally was entirely reliable. Or sane for that matter.
"Guarded by two of Metatron's most loyal." Gadreel answered, indicating the mother and daughter seen playing there. "I recruited them myself. So, you said you had a plan... How we might convince them to let us pass."
Castiel pulled out a set of handcuffs.
"Wookiee." he explained with a grin.
Gadreel looked confused.
"Brother, I have no idea what that means."
"It's a reference to a very popular film that- never mind." Castiel suddenly had a new appreciation for the frustration Dean always seemed to exhibit whenever one of his references went over Castiel's head.
Cas showed him how to work the cuffs and they approached the two angels, Castiel struggling against the bonds for good measure.
"Asariel, Purah," Gadreel greeted, "make way."
"The door's closed, Gadreel." Purah answered. "By orders of Metatron."
"And who do you think gave the order to capture Castiel?" Gadreel countered. "Unless you think Metatron isn't interested in questioning the leader of the rebellion?"
The two guardian angels shared a glance before the other, Asariel, answered.
"The spell must be redrawn."
"As quickly as possible, then."
Once Purah finished drawing the spell in the sandbox, it kicked up a maelstrom of heavenly light into which Cas and Gadreel stepped. Castiel held his breath as he was enveloped by the light, and he couldn't help the anticipation that kickstarted his heart pounding. He was going back to heaven. He was going home.
A bell dinged and the swirling mass of light coalesced into an elevator. The doors opened and Cas was manhandled by Gadreel into an orderly office of angels, where they were met by Hannah and another angel Castiel did not recognize.
"Well done." she commended. "We've sent word to Metatron. He'll be back shortly. You can wait inside."
"Thank you, Ingrid." Gadreel greeted with a smile and the two entered Metatron's office, the door closing behind them.
Cas smiled and relaxed. They were almost there.
Then the lights shut off and the walls crumbled, new ones springing up in their place.
"What's going on?" Castiel demanded, sure Gadreel was behind the betrayal until his surroundings coalesced into a familiar sight and Gadreel's panicked voice sounded from the cell next to his.
"No, no, no, no! Not here!"
"Did you really think your little ruse would work?"
Ingrid stood outside the cell door with Hannah hanging back behind her.
"Please." Gadreel begged, as Ingrid strode past him without a word. "Please!"
She stopped in front of Castiel's cell.
"Welcome to heaven's jail, Castiel. I believe Gadreel can give you the tour."
…
No word came from Castiel and Dean was beginning to grow restless. He had had to practically dragged Sam to investigate the miraculous healing they had witnessed and managed to track down the girl Metatron had healed, speaking with her long enough to glean what he had whispered to her in the video - his next location - before she left, and then he and Sam had fought about what their next step would be. Dean wanted to investigate further, take the fight to Metatron but Sam had to go and be all reasonable, pointing out that Cas and Gadreel had a plan and that Sam and Dean were hideously outmatched now that Metatron was basically a demigod and it would be better all round for them to just go back to the bunker and wait it out.
It was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. He wasn't meant to be sitting on the sidelines, twiddling his thumbs. He was Dean Winchester, he was meant to be in the fray, battling it out against the bad guys, horribly outnumbered and outmatched but still doing everything in his limited power to help.
Besides, what was he waiting for? For Castiel to come waltzing back through the door, saying everything was fine, Metatron was taken care of, Heaven was restored, the angels were home and he was Dean's until their dying day?
Who was he kidding, life wasn't like that. Not for Dean Winchester. Castiel wouldn't be coming back, whether or not he succeeded, his grace would still burn out and Dean would be left alone.
He already was alone.
He closed his eyes and tried to conjure every memory he had of his and Castiel's time together, the good and the bad, the joy and the tears, quiet moments just before sleep or just after waking when the world felt no bigger than their bed.
He smiled. In many ways he had been far luckier than he had ever thought possible. So what if it couldn't last? That was to be expected. At least he'd had something worthwhile, something real.
His heart ached but he shoved the feeling down. He should be grateful for the time he'd spent with the angel, not lamenting the fact that it was all over. Hell, he should be grateful it happened at all, it's not like he had deserved any of it. The universe had granted him a short reprieve from his hellish life and now it was over. Dean Winchester was miserable and alone. All was once again right with the world.
The least he could do was help Castiel in saving the world by buying him a little time.
He packed his bag and stared around at the room that held the best of his memories. He looked over at the closet that stood open and still housed all of Castiel's human clothes and at the wall of photos Cas had accrued. A jolt of sentimentality washed over him and he pulled down his favourites and stowed them in his bag. Then he grabbed the duffle and Brian's cage and left, shutting off the light and closing the door. He didn't look back.
He left the guinea pig in his cage on the library table with a note to Sam to take good care of him. Not that he would expect anything else from his oversized brother.
And then he was in the Impala, driving to Metatron's last known location and hoping that whatever he was about to do would end up being useful in the long run.
…
"Okay, so you're telling me that Metatron set you up, arranged those suicide bombers to make himself look like the victim."
Castiel was perched inside his cage, trying desperately to convince Hannah of his innocence. He took it as a good sign that she was at least humouring him by staying to listen to his side of what happened.
"Gadreel was his second in command." Castiel reasoned. "For what other reason than the truth would he turn against Metatron?"
"So now I'm expected to trust the word of an angel who's only ever thought of himself since the Garden, and you? You told us not a single angel more would die in this fight."
"What do you think I have been trying to do?"
"Trying?" Hannah spat back. "By killing Metatron?"
"He is the reason for all of our suffering."
"Nothing you say matters."
"Would you rather I not try at all?" he countered.
"Not if you can't prove it."
"So give us a chance." he implored. "Let us out, Hannah. Please."
She went back to her place guarding them and spoke no more, shutting out any more pleas Castiel may have thrown at her. Eventually he gave up and silence abounded until Gadreel began to speak.
"I sat in this hole for thousands of years, thinking of nothing but redemption, of reclaiming my good name." The angel's voice was trembling, with anger or fear Castiel could not tell. "I thought of nobody, no cause, other than my own."
"You've been redeemed, my friend." Castiel called out, hoping to alleviate at least a little of the angel's suffering.
"The only thing that matters in the end is the mission. Protecting those who would not and cannot protect themselves; the humans. None of us is bigger than that. And we will not let our fears, our self-absorption prevent us from seeing it through. Not anymore."
"No. Of course not." The angel's words were worrying Castiel with their finality.
"Move to the other side of your cell, Castiel, and keep your head down."
"What are you doing?" Castiel questioned as he moved, fearing for the intensity he heard in Gadreel's voice.
Hannah rushed to Gadreel and gasped at the sigils he had cut into his chest with one of the jagged rocks that littered his cell.
"Don't!" She shouted, fumbling for the key.
"When they say my name," he gasped, "perhaps I won't just be the one who let the serpent in. Perhaps I will be known as one of the many…"
"Gadreel." Castiel warned as he continued.
"...who gave heaven a second chance." He stared at Hannah. "Run, sister."
Hannah backed away and Castiel cowered as, with a yell, Gadreel's cell exploded.
Once the dust had cleared, Castiel stepped from the wreckage of his own cell to find Hannah gasping over Gadreel's prone body.
She spun round.
"Do you believe him now?"
…
According to the girl's statement, Metatron had settled in a homeless camp where the new messiah had already amassed several disciples of his own. They tried to stop him entering the abandoned warehouse that was now serving as 'Marv's' headquarters and really, it was all feeling a little too much like a modern adaptation of Jesus Christ Superstar and honestly his rope was a little short and frayed.
It didn't take Dean long to get inside.
When he did, it was to find Metatron sitting, meditating on the floor of the warehouse.
"You can save the humble-pie Jesus routine for somebody who gives a damn." he quipped.
"The problem with you, Dean, is the cynicism." Metatron answered back. "Always with the cynicism. But most people, even the real belly crawlers living in filth...Or Brentwood...They don't want to be cynical. They just want something to believe in."
"And that'd be you."
"Why not me?"
"You've been working those people outside for, what, a day? They've already spilled blood in your name. You are nothing but Bernie Madoff with wings."
"So I'm a fake." The angel shrugged. "Do you have any idea how much pancake makeup and soft lighting it took to get God to work a rope line? He hated it. And, you know, humans sense that. So they prayed harder and longer and fought more wars in his name. And for what?! So they could die of malaria? Leukemia? And all the while, blaming themselves! 'Oh, if only I'd been more prayerful, God would have loved me! God would have saved me!' You know what?! God didn't even know their name! But I do. Because I've walked among them. And I can save them."
"Sure, you can." Dean answered back, glad Metatron was enough of a stereotypical villain to feel the need to explain himself in long, whiny monologues. It was making stalling for time so that Cas could safely get to the Angel tablet much easier. "So long as your mug is in every Bible and 'What would Metatron do?' is on every bumper."
"And? What, are you blaming me for giving them what they want, giving them a brand they can believe in?"
"I'm blaming you for taking Cas' grace." Dean shot back, anger rising. "I'm blaming you for the hell you put him through. Hell, I'm blaming you for the Cubs not winning The World Series in the last 100 freaking years. Whatever it is, I'm blaming you."
"Okay, let's say you win, Dean, and I die. What's the world left with then, hmm? A herd of panty-waisted angels and you?"
"Yeah," Dean answered. "You see, the only thing you've said that went into my ear was that you die."
"Ohh. Fine. We'll fight. I don't know what you expect is gonna come of all this. Unless that's why you're stalling. Because you know nothing's gonna come of this unless your pals succeed upstairs. Well, here's a news flash, humpty and dumpty are starring in their very own version of 'Locked Up Abroad: Heaven' right now."
Anger rose in Dean at the thought of Cas locked up in heaven's prison, and he lashed out, angel blade jumping into his hand as he lunged forward. If what he was saying was true and Cas wasn't going to be able to get to the tablet, the least he could do was at least try to take the big boss down.
But Metatron, with all his suped-up, Angel-tablet power was too quick and, in one casual moment, moved aside, grabbing Dean and using his own momentum to hurl him hard into one of the concrete walls.
…
"Where is it?" Castiel rounded on Ingrid whom Hannah had at blade point. She stayed silent and Castiel, knowing he had little to no time before Metatron caught word of Gadreel's martyrdom and came running, ordered curtly. "Remove her."
He turned and glanced around the room, trying to decide the best place to begin his hunt for the tablet.
…
Dean stood and began moving towards Metatron but with a casual gesture, Dean was once again flying back into the wall and crashing to the ground, pain blooming. Metatron approached slowly as Dean fought to regain the use of his lungs, gasping helplessly as the the wannabe god knocked the blade out of his hand and kicked him in the face before stomping down hard on his wrist.
"Look at you. Big bad Dean Winchester come to the aid of his little boyfriend. Do you miss your precious little Castiel? Do you pine for him? Do you even realize that he doesn't really love you? That he can never really love you? Angels aren't programmed to do that you know? He may think he does. He may fancy himself in love, but true passion? The kind that transcends time and space, that lasts for all eternity," he bent down, "it doesn't exist. It never has. It is a fabrication created by the human mind to deal with the hollowness of mortal life and the intensity of human emotion. That is why angels will always be superior to humans, Dean. Because we have no such weaknesses. Well, except for freaks like your dear Castiel. But even he is not capable of true love. That's why he left."
Dean tried desperately to ignore Metatron's words. After all, he had felt Castiel's love first hand, had felt the depth of it, the power of it. He had no illusions as to how much Castiel loved him. But was that enough? There were other things more powerful than love. Like duty. Castiel's duty to his people, to his cause, to his mission. That was what had taken him away in the end. Anger too, was stronger than love Dean had come to learn, why else would his father, who had professed to loving him, had told him many times, had demonstrated to him by sacrificing his own life for Dean's, why else would he have done what he had done? Why else would his hatred of Dean's sexual preference have overpowered his love for his own son?
Dean winced as Metatron landed another blow. And then he was being hauled up and thrown at the wall again, Metatron landing punch after punch until his head was spinning and his face was in agony and all he could think of was that at least he was buying Cas some time and hopefully it would all be over soon.
…
Castiel had torn apart the office searching for the tablet, but it was nowhere to be found. He stood in the wreckage of the room, panting as his strength left him. He could feel what little grace he had left burning away inside him and he suddenly knew his time was well and truly running out. He scanned the room, trying to imagine where Metatron might have hidden his most prized possession, when his eyes lit on the typewriter that sat on his desk upon which Castiel recalled Metatron typing when he had been taken prisoner. He moved towards it, rounding the desk and lifting it to reveal the glowing tablet inside.
…
Dean sat against the wall, beaten and broken, face throbbing and blood trickling and obscuring his vision. Blearily, he caught sight if the angel blade that sat just out of reach. He strained his aching body to reach forward, stubbornly ignoring the way his ribs screamed in agony at the movement until he had the weapon in his grasp. A thrill of victory went through him and he sat up. Only to find Metatron in front of him with his own angel blade which he drove hard into Dean's chest.
He gasped as the silvery blade slid in, cutting through skin and sinew. It didn't hurt, not at first, but then Metatron grinned sadistically as he twisted the blade and elicited another breathless gasp from the Winchester and Dean glanced down as the blade was pulled from his chest.
As he tried to process what had just happened, an agonizing cry went up from across the warehouse and he glanced up to see his brother standing frozen in horror. Sammy. Sammy had come. Sammy had followed him. Probably tracked him on the phone he had forgotten to turn off. Or maybe he hadn't forgotten. Maybe he had wanted his brother to find him. To be with him at the end.
Then breathing became too hard and holding himself up became too much as more and more blood spilled from the gaping hole in his chest and he felt his body tip sideways, crashing to the ground as his senses began to fade.
He felt hands on him. Not Metatron's sweaty palms but his brother's strong hands as he pulled him upright, his voice a buzz in Dean's ears as he moaned from the pain the movement caused.
Then the whole warehouse began to shake and Sam, as though just remembering that Metatron was there, went to drive his own angel blade into the would-be god, but the snake had already disappeared from sight.
…
The moment the Tablet crashed to the floor in shards of broken stone, Metatron appeared before Castiel who was sitting, relaxed in his desk chair.
"Well played, Castiel. Obviously, you and Gadreel managed to turn a few dead enders against me."
"Gadreel is dead." Castiel informed.
"Ah. So Gadreel bites the dust." Metatron greeted the news with indifference. "And the angel tablet, arguably the most powerful instrument in the history of the universe, is in pieces, and for what again? Oh, that's right. To save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but ultimately, it was all about saving one human, right? Well, guess what. He's dead, too."
Fear and nausea coursed through Castiel at the news. It wasn't true was it? It couldn't be. Dean was in the bunker. Dean was safe. Dean was waiting for him.
He told himself this, hoping he would believe it. Metatron lied. Metatron lied all the time. There was no reason to believe him. Dean was fine. Dean had to be.
"And you're sitting in my chair." Metatron added and at his words Castiel's hands were cuffed to the armrests.
…
Sam was pressing a cloth to Dean's chest as Dean tried to speak around the blood that was slowly but surely filling his lungs and choking him.
"Sammy, you got to get out of here before he comes back."
"Shh. Shh. Shh. Shh." Sam blabbered. "Shut up. Shut up. Just save your energy, all right? Oh, man. We'll stop the bleeding. We'll…we'll get you a doctor or…or I'll find a spell. You're gonna be okay."
"Listen to me." Dean murmured. "It's better this way."
"What?!"
"Saving the world, right? It's what we do. It's what we always do. I always knew I'd go out like this. Why not now?"
"What about Cas, Dean? You guys have got each other. What do you think this is going to do to him?"
"Cas is dying." Dean coughed. "His grace is fading and there's no telling whether or not he'll find a way to stop it." He looked up into his brother's concerned eyes. "We were never meant to last. You know that. We had what we had. And that was enough. Hell, it was more than I ever deserved."
Sam shook his head.
"Well, I'm not ready to lose you. And you shouldn't give up on Cas that easily. Now come on."
With a moan of agony, Sam hauled Dean to his feet and they began the long trek out of the wreckage of the warehouse.
…
"You will never get away with this." Castiel's voice trembled as he strained against the cuffs, desperate to get this over with so he could find Dean and reassure himself that the hunter was okay.
"Get away with what?" Metatron asked smugly. "You told a silly story to a group of less-than-believers. I'll clean up your mess in an hour."
"You give our brothers and sisters far too little credit." Castiel answered back, pleased that the other angel seemed to be falling into his trap. "They will soon learn that you have been playing them."
"And then? They will do nothing because they are frightened little sheep following my crook wherever it leads. And where I'm taking them, back to our rightful place atop this mountain of human shame and excrement, when that happens, trust me, they're not gonna care how they got there.
"You know why you could never quite pull it together, Castiel? Why you're sitting here with Your Grace slowly burning away and your reputation long extinguished? No curiosity. You didn't read enough. You never learned how to tell a good story."
He had him. Castiel leant forward, still hampered by the cuffs chaining him to the chair.
"But you did."
He glanced over at the desk where Metatron's microphone, tuned into the wavelength of sound all angels used to communicate with each other, was on and broadcasting. The door flew open and angels upon angels crowded in, grabbing Metatron as Castiel stood, cuffs banished, and raised his blade.
"Take him to the prison." he ordered, before striding to the elevator and concentrating on Dean, hoping that wherever the portal spat him out, the hunter would be nearby, and that he would be alright.
…
Dean was struggling to put one foot in front of the other until finally his legs gave out and he sagged in Sam's arms.
"Sam. Hold up. Hold up." he gasped, fresh blood covering his lips as he struggled to breath.
Sam stopped and let him lean against a disused piece of machinery.
"I got to say something to you."
"What?" Sam asked as he held Dean upright.
Dean's hand moved from Sam's shoulder to his face and their eyes met.
"I'm proud of us." he whispered and then his eyes closed and his body slumped, boneless, into Sam's grasp.
"No, no. Hey, hey, hey. Hey, wake up, buddy." Sam babbled as he pushed Dean away, holding him upright and shaking him, willing him to open his eyes, to breath, to live. "Hey. Dean." There was no response. "Dean!"
Tears, which had begun to trickle down his cheeks were now streaming as it hit him, truly and viscerally, that Dean was dead and gone. He sobbed, pulling his brother's limp body to his chest and holding him tightly.
Dimly, he registered a bright blast of light in a far off corner of the warehouse accompanied by a rush of wind and then Castiel was standing there, hearing Sam cry heart wrenching sobs while cradling his brother's bloody body.
"No." he whispered as he walked and then ran towards the brothers. "Dean!"
Sam looked up at the angel's cry, his face blotchy from tears.
"Cas! Cas you've gotta help him!"
Castiel reached Dean, and Sam moved aside as the angel caught the limp body, cradling his face as he stroked across the bloodstained skin.
"Dean." It was done. Metatron was captured. The angels had been returned to heaven. Dean was meant to be waiting for him. Not dead. Not dead. "Dean."
His throat closed off as he felt Dean's still-warm skin. He could feel what was left of his grace burning away inside him. Leaving him day by day. He didn't know how much he had left or indeed, if he had enough to pull Dean's soul back into his body and knit his flesh back together, especially from a wound made by an angel blade, which, while not as devastating as it was for an angel, still took effort to heal. But there was no question. Because this was Dean and he would give every last ounce of grace for him.
He placed his hand on the wound which was still trickling blood and poured the remainder of his grace into him. Slowly, he healed the extensive damage, lungs sealing, muscles reforming. The bruises on his face faded, the crushed wrist reformed, the blood dissipating and Castiel pressed a kiss to his temple as Dean sucked in a breath and his green eyes blinked open.
"Dean?" Sam breathed.
Dean glanced up at his brother and then over at the angel whose arms were wrapped around him.
"Cas." he asked in disbelief.
Castiel smiled.
"You're going to be all right now." he whispered, exhaustion stealing his strength before he collapsed to the floor.
"Cas!"
...
I know, I'm a terrible person who is addicted to cliffhanger deaths. Please Review.
