The first time they broke into the warehouse occurred a week after Castiel delivered the cassette tape to the hospital. It was rumored this warehouse held some necessary supplies for the angels. Whether this was a part of their food supply or a secret weapon stash, Dean wanted to inspect what they were keeping in there and to destroy it.

This would be the first step in an attack plan they made, targeting their warehouses. By targeting one of the bigger warehouses and destroying it with many other resistance members would make a statement. Setting it aflame was the main goal; the angels could not recover any of their materials and the resistance wouldn't have to put any lives in danger to guard the angels' resources.

Castiel believed he was not going to be involved in this particular mission. He believed they would try to keep him as far away from angels as possible, to minimize the number of angel encounters he would have. Still, Dean came to him and asked whether he'd like to participate, and while he left the initial choice to the angel, he did later admit he would have made Castiel come with if he chose to stay behind.

Castiel made the decision to help after an hour of thinking this through. He told Dean he did not know where this warehouse was or what it held; the angels had never taken him there or made its existence known to him. Luckily, Dean did not care Castiel never knew it existed and did not hold this against him. If their mission succeeded, the warehouse was going to burn to the ground and nobody would ever be able to see it again.

This warehouse lay in the outskirts of the city, on the other side, furthest away from where the bunker was located. It was an inconspicuous building sitting in the middle of the industrial area. A worn-out sign suggested this once served as a storage space for a furniture store that had gone out of business long before Castiel was even born. It was the perfect cover for the angels to keep some of their own supplies. Still, the angels may just as easily use a renovated house to fit the needs of the angels and the stock it was holding. Whatever this industrial warehouse held, it must be big or there must be large quantities.

The resistance drove to the location in six vans, all filled to the brim with people involved in this mission. In each van, two people sat in the front and ten more people were in the back, bringing the force to seventy people. The vans dimmed their lights when they entered the industrial zone and drove onto the terrain. They silently parked and the resistance members snuck out of the vans. With drawn weapons, they crept towards the entrance.

Dean and Castiel were among the first to enter the building. The others followed closely behind.

The warehouse was filled with metal transport containers one might have found at a port, or being transported by a truck. They were neatly placed closely together, one after the other, and they were all standing in the middle, leaving a large pathway on the sides.

The lights inside were also on. They wouldn't be on unless someone was here. Angels were currently guarding the warehouse. For now, they had no idea the resistance was present in the building and hopefully, none of them saw it coming.

This was where Dean and Castiel's ways parted. Castiel was authorized to walk around the warehouse with his angel blade, while Dean and the others explored the area in small groups. With a bit of luck, Castiel bumped into someone who knew he was "spying" for the angels and he could get information from them. If not, he probably stood a decent chance in a one-on-one battle with another angel. It was a chance other resistance members did not stand; they not been subjected to rigorous angel training and were not familiar with the nuances of the fighting styles. They often had come into this fight because they had lost someone to them or believed in the good cause. Any fighting skills usually had to be self-taught. Their main weapon was a gun – while advantageous in range, it was loud and would announce their presence.

As Castiel walked through the warehouse, he remained as quiet as possible. Each step was careful and calculated, looking around him to make sure nobody would try to sneak up on him without them flying up to him. The sound of gunfire breaking out and shouting gave him a scare, and he paused. Though he wanted to see what exactly was going on, he had to go on his way. Joining them could compromise his now delicate standing with the angels.

There were four offices in the building. Maybe there were some angels in those spaces. He decided to see whether they were empty and no other angels were waiting there to join the fight. These offices were on the second floor and Castiel had to climb the metal staircase to reach them, still making sure that he would not make any unnecessary noise. This should be no problem with the background noise of gunfire and shouts.

The first and second office space he entered were empty and showed no sign of ever being in use, the chairs and tables collecting dust. Castiel was probably the first to walk into these rooms in a very long time.

The third office looked more promising. There was less dust on the chairs and the desk and the windows were kept clean. Castiel entered the office and looked through the glass.

Almost every resistance member was engaged in battle. They shot at the angels which closed the distance with their flight and angel blades. Some were wounded, but the casualties amongst the resistance and angels seemed to be balanced.

Someone kicked Castiel in his right leg, in the tibia. He fell to his knees and put his hands around the hurt area. The plain was explosive but short. Whatever the damage, Castiel's regenerative healing was already working hard and with every second, the pain subsided slightly.

"Hello, Castiel," a familiar voice said. One he'd heard only a week ago.

"Gadreel."

Castiel lifted his head. In front of him stood Gadreel – incredibly patient and incredibly deadly. He was clearly in his element; he was relaxed, standing with his hands in his pockets and a modest smile on his face.

"You seemed to be in such a rush back at the hospital," Gadreel said. "I mean, you couldn't even stay for one minute. That's a little overbearing."

"They are indeed overbearing," Castiel said. Not as much as he made them out to be for Gadreel, but it was still a good story to tell.

Gadreel shrugged in response. "That's too bad." He walked closer to Castiel until two yards separated them. "But you're here and I'm here. There's no human around to tell you to keep your mouth shut. So, go ahead. What have you learned in there?"

"A lot," Castiel replied. He tried to focus his energy in healing his tibia – probably only hurt to slow him down in case of betrayal. The sooner they were fine, the bigger a chance he stood against Gadreel.

"You will need to be more specific," Gadreel said. His tone was menacing. "What about leadership? Who does it consist of?"

Castiel knew this. But he was not willing to give up that kind of information. Gadreel would have to pull it out of his head.

"Which one of those humans out there is the highest up in their hierarchy?" Gadreel then asked, but this question too was met with silence and an indifferent stare. While he was known as the calm one, Castiel's inability to respond was getting on his nerves.

"Why so silent?" Castiel averted his eyes and Gadreel knew why his fellow angel wasn't answering his questions or even speaking at all.

"You've fallen, haven't you?"

Castiel rose to his feet. His tibia still hurt, but by now it was nothing he couldn't handle. Also, he wanted to stand to confront Gadreel.

"Yes, I have." Gadreel shook his head.

"That's the wrong decision, Castiel." Gadreel sounded genuinely worried about his comrade's questionable life choices. "If you choose to ally yourself with them, you lose the fight and your life."

"I believe I can decide what I want for myself," Castiel replied. He was going to be his own person, no longer allowing the angels and their standards to define him. Castiel narrowed his eyes. "I came here on my own accord. Can you say the same thing?"

"Yes, I can," Gadreel answered. "I do what I must, what we must. We are angels, Castiel. Like it or not, we are."

"We are nothing alike," Castiel retorted. They may have the same gene set, the one that made them both angels, but that was the one thing they had in common. The biggest difference was the different mindset.

Gadreel took a step backward, away from Castiel, and he drew his angel blade, his cold eyes on the traitor. None of the worry he previously displayed was now in his posture or facial expression.

"Last chance, Castiel. Surrender now. Let yourself be escorted off these grounds. Let yourself be re-educated." Gadreel continued in a softer voice. "We only want what is best for you."

"I am not going anywhere with you," Castiel said. He shifted on his feet, prepared for what was to follow. He took his own angel blade in anticipation and kept his gaze on Gadreel.

"I wish you hadn't said that." Gadreel said. He lashed out.

Castiel stepped backward and turned his body, avoiding Gadreel's attack. Gadreel had not expected this and took an extra step forward to stabilize himself – it might have been arrogance on his part and a little pride, or he underestimated how mobile Castiel was. Either way, Gadreel started with his guard partially down and Castiel took the opportunity to attack.

He turned to face Gadreel and plunged the angel blade in Gadreel's chest before he could fly away – but he didn't, as he was mortally wounded and shocked at the swiftness of his defeat.

Castiel pulled the blade out of the flesh. Gadreel stood a couple of moments, trying to keep his balance. He did not look at Castiel, only stared at the wound. Then he fell to the ground and Castiel stood over him, watching him struggle to catch his breath while he bled out. A second later, he stopped moving.

Castiel was not remorseful; at least Gadreel could no longer harm any resistance members. He left the body in the office and continued on his way.

All angels had been accounted for. Other than Gadreel, Castiel had not come across any familiar faces guarding the contents of the containers. The angels probably abandoned the warehouse; the sheer force of the resistance's surprise attack either scared them away or hurt them significantly enough to stay away. Either way, the angels were gone and the resistance could take stock. They had no time to count every single object, but they could count the containers by their content.

Castiel watched from one side of the hangar how Dean and two of his friends took stock a bit further away from Cas' position. Dean had tried to make sure the angels were taken care of, and it seemed that he had done his job well. If Dean asked, Castiel would gladly lend a hand – but until the question came, Castiel watched them instead and was ready to step in, if need be.

Dean was standing with his back to the angel, to inspect another container. The two men by his side followed his lead.

Uriel popped up a little behind Dean.

Castiel shouted his name. it was too late for Dean or his friends to turn and react accordingly, as Uriel's weapon was already drawn. Two steps were needed and Uriel could stab Dean in the back. It could do a lot of damage and even result in death. When he dies, what would happen then? The guy in the hospital would need to be told. The other councilmembers may make rash decisions based on their grief. In any case, the resistance would lose one of its leaders, which would destabilize the resistance.

Time seemed to slow down. Castiel wanted to help. But from his position, he would only reach Dean once the damage had already been done. Immediately after shouting his name, energy rose within him. His limbs tingled – the need to be there, as opposed to 'here', grew exponentially. He had to be there. There was no other option; he had to stand by Dean and block the attack now.

Uriel already raised his blade to stab Dean in the heart through his back and he did not hold back. The blade got stuck in Castiel's chest as he flew in between Uriel and Dean.

Dean and his men turned around after hearing the tumult behind them and witnessed Uriel stabbing Castiel. The two men shot at Uriel while Dean provided some support for Castiel. They hit Uriel a couple of times before he flew away to the safety of the angel headquarters or wherever he was stationed, where he could easily heal.

Castiel's legs gave way. He collapsed and fell on his back, holding onto the blade in his chest as if it was important that it stayed in place.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered under his breath, looking at the angel. He raised his voice and knelt down beside him.

"I'll stab back next time," Castiel replied.

Each breath hurt. His chest hurt, he was weak and could barely move. His attention and energy went to the angel blade and the wound and the lung that filled with blood. He could not even be amazed he flew for the second time; the numbing yet excruciating pain needed to stop.

"Let's get him out of here," Dean told the two men he had with him. They put away their guns and picked up Castiel. They carried him to the parked vans, so they could return him to the bunker and have him heal in the safety of the base and under the watchful eye of one of their medics. Dean followed them, informing the base he would accompany their wounded angel back to base.

"Are you even healing?" Dean asked once Castiel was put in the back of the van. He still showed signs of consciousness and his hand still held the blade. When Castiel did not answer, Dean repeated the question. Castiel glanced at Dean with absent eyes.

"No," he said with a weak voice. "Only when the blade's gone." Only when nothing invasive was stuck in his body, then he could heal.

"Won't you bleed out, then?"

"Maybe," Castiel responded. "Get it out when I'm unconscious. Keep me alive, the healing will do the rest."

Dean sighed. If it were up to him, he would have already kept the blade in there. He did not look forward to pulling it out, but if Castiel said he could heal when it was out, he would do so.

The van sped through the streets, going as fast as they could without attracting too much attention. Castiel sunk deeper and deeper into an unconscious state, but sheer willpower woke him up. He stared at Dean, whose only indication that he was still alive was the rigid blinking and his breathing.

Only ten minutes away from the bunker, Castiel gave in to the growing darkness. He couldn't move anymore as he fell unconscious. And Dean pulled the blade out of Castiel's chest.