When Jack had told them he wasn't gonna interfere with humanity anymore he meant it, but of course he was gonna find a loophole. He was a Winchester after all.

Dean saw the small gold butterfly fly around him three days after Chuck had been defeated. He was sitting on his bed, phone in hand. Not his current phone, the old one, the cell phone where he still had Cas voicemail on. Cas never customized the one on the new iPhone they bought him a year before.

He hit play for the third time, listening to Cas flat voice and feeling like he could die from the boulder that heaved on his chest. He didn't cry, he didn't have any tears left. So it was worse. Because his eyes burned, his chapped lips trembled and as he looked up the annoying, itchy sensation raised again in his throat.

That's when he saw it. A small, glowing dot, that was flying around the ceiling in circles. Dean had to blink multiple times, his brain still underwater, before realizing what it was.

A butterfly? In the bunker? Underground?

The little thing had dived in front of his face, Dean's eyes widening comically as he shouted for his brother, who darted in his room after barely one loud "SAM", almost as he was waiting outside the door.

He wasn't, but Sam had taken the habit to walk past it every 20 minutes, since the moment his brother had broken down in the car three days before, while they were driving back to the bunker after the last battle. The tears had started to roll down quietly but soon enough they turned in sobs powerful enough to force Dean to stop the car before it could crash. Sam could not remember the last time Dean had been like that. He let him cry, hands covering his face, not asking why, now and then, between the wails, a soft "he's gone" came out of his grunts.

And after that he never really left him alone. He tried once, to ask about what had happened at the bunker the day Cas died. It was at night, their second night after the battle. He'd been woken up by Dean's screams, and running into his room he'd found his brother drenched in sweat and tears, sitting on the bed and crying out Cas's name.

After a couple of "Dean it's ok" and a strong and long hug, during which Dean just remained limp, shaking like a leaf, he'd dared to ask about that day, regretting it immediately. Dean had gone grey, his eyes getting bigger and bigger and Sam remembered the last time he'd seen that expression on his brother face. It was when he was ten and John was screaming at him because he'd caused a small fire in the hotel room where they were staying, trying to cook dinner, and the manager had kicked them out. It was guilt and fear and pain all in one look.

Sam spent that night with him, sitting on the edge of his bed, gently rubbing Dean's shoulder to calm him down, the sight of his big brother clenching the sheets in his hands as he laid on one side, curled up, was something that was gonna hunt him for a while.

But this time, when he skidded in his room, Dean was sitting straight. Yes his face was an unhealthy yellow colour but most of the glow came from the small insect that was buzzing softly a few inches from his nose.

"What is it?" he asked, moving to the bed, eyes not leaving the bright insect, knocking down some of the empty beer bottles that decorated Dean's floor.

"I don't know!" Dean replied, his voice too hoarse to convey as much panic as he was actually feeling

"Do we kill it?" Sam wondered, more out of habit than nothing. The butterfly seemed harmless. If it was in fact just a butterfly. He flinched when it wandered closer to his face, flying around his head and then out of the room. Both men followed it without a word. The butterfly flew into another bedroom, landing on the Marvelous Marvin that sat on the bed.

The words came up Dean's throat before he could even process them

"Jack?"

The butterfly seemed to glow a little brighter for a moment

"Jack is that you?" Sam repeated. Again the light shined stronger. Then the butterfly flew again, leading them to the library, bumping softly against one of the books they never really checked out, because it was in enochian.

Sam grabbed it, browsing its pages until the butterfly landed on a specific one, the light pulsating harder than ever.

"What- what does this mean?" Dean asked, not sure to who, and his head spun fast at Sam answer

"It's.. it's a spell Dean"

"A spell? How would you know that, it's enochian"

Sam knotted eyebrows and pained expression were even worse than his silence

"Sam? C'mon talk!"

"It's... Cas..." Sam stopped talking when the colour left his brother's face "Dean?"

Dean cleared his throat, placing one hand on Sam's arm to steady himself, his knees had gone weak

"Go... go on. Please."

"Well Cas was teaching me how to read it. And I'm not good at it and there's a lot I can't understand but..."

Dean strong grip on his arms forced his eyes off the book again and into the green, desperate ones

"But I think this spell.. this spell could bring him back. We can save Cas".

And just like that they got to work, Dean going on runs - sometimes very long runs - to get the ingredients necessary for the spell, and Sam studying the words until night fell and even after, trying to ignore Dean pacing and sometimes anger bursts, for which he immediately apologized.

It took them a week just to get all they needed, and another three days for the moon to be in the perfect position. Sam was probably going to suffer from constant back pain for the rest of his life after passing all of his waking hours bent over the book. He slept only when Dean forced him to or when he just passed out on the map table. Dean almost didn't sleep at all. His heart beat so fast all the time, he didn't know if it was because of the constant caffeine intake or the fact that they had a plan, they were going to bring Cas back, to bring Cas home. Dean didn't think about after. He didn't dare. Because their plan always had a downside, and he didn't want to hope too hard. Not in front of Sam at least. But whenever he was alone in the car, returning with one of the ingredients, or his little brother was passed out on the table, his mind ventured there. His brain replayed Cas speech - he remembered it by heart - and an invisible hand would always reach and grab his insides, twisting them. Because Cas had died thinking Dean didn't love him back. Thinking he couldn't have him. Of course he had him, Dean couldn't believe he wanted him, not after all that had happened, not after all that he'd said and done.

Finally the day came.

First they said the words. Well Sam did. Dean was afraid that stuttering could affect the spell. Then the blood offer - Dean took upon himself that task, slicing his palm and not bothering to stop the bleeding, his eyes glued on the point Cas was supposed to appear. The lights flickered and then turned off leaving them in the dark. When the auxiliary green lights turned on both brothers held their breath, eyes fixed on the figure that was staring back at them. Cas was still, his blue eyes scanning the room and his body, like he didn't recognized it. Finally he spoke, his voice almost too low to be heard

"Where am I?"

Dean lips twitched up as he replied, breathlessly

"Welcome home".

His eyes flickered briefly to his brother's face, Sam was smiling, his chest going up and down a little more quickly than normal. Dean smile widened. They did it. They brought him back. Turning to Cas he took a step forward, not sure for what, but feelingbthe need to hold him, tobe sure he was there. But he froze into place when the angel summoned his blade, eyes narrowing.

"Who are you?"

Those three simple words felt like three gunshots to his heart.

"Cas? Cas it's us" he heard Sam say, his eyes not leaving the blue ones, that looked weird, that looked different. And finally Dean understood why. They were colder.

The angel tilted his head in Sam direction

"I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord. I do not know you"

He'd spoken slowly, in a low, almost abrasive growl but for all that mattered he could've shouted, he would've had the same effect on Dean. His heart beat accelerated, eyes widening in cold panic.

"Cas..." he whispered, tentatively, and blue eyes were piercing him again

"I.. don't know why I am here, but I must return to Heaven" he said, flat, like he hadn't heard him speak.

Then his expression changed, his eyes widened, his lips twitching in a terrified grimace.

"What have you done to me?" he asked, his eyebrows raising in terror and confusion, and the brothers looked at each other, before snapping back at Cas terrified scream again, in time to see his eyes shine bright and the shadow of broken wings stretch on the wall behind him, feathers falling like leaves in autumn.

Dean felt the air being pushed out of his lungs as Cas pinned him against one of columns, his head knocking against it. The pain blinded him for a few seconds, and when the dark spots disappeared Cas face was inches from his, so close he could hear his warm breath tickling his nose.

"What have you done to me? What have you done to my grace?" the angel barked, but Dean couldn't answer even if he wanted to, gasping fo air as he was. His head was empty, the only thing he could do was stare into Cas eyes, the same eyes that had looked at him with so much love and tenderness and that now were cold and angry.

"Cas..." Dean pleaded, grabbing a little more tightly the trench coat, feeling the arm that was held against his throat stop its forward motion just enough to make him breathe again.

Then a click, and Cas disappeared from his view. Dean slid down, coughing, ending on the floor with a thud. He heard yelling and breaking and when he finally looked up again Cas was kneeling on the floor, the angel's cuffs around his wrists, tying him at the leg of the table.

"Free me. Now!" he commanded to Sam, who was bent at the waist, one hand on his stomach, the other rubbing off blood that was trickling from his lower lip.

The angel looked around, like a caged animal, his eyes meeting again Dean's. He pierced him with so much resentment, so much indignation that Dean had to turn his face, the tears swelling up and running on his cheeks freely. He closed his eyes, feeling his chest rise and fall fast and painfully, curling on himself, and did not complain when his brother grabbed him, lifting him up and steered him out the room into the hallway.

"Dean? Dean are you hurt? Dean!"

He didn't answer, the lump in his throat making it hard even to breathe. He could sense the black pooling at the brink of his eyes again, his head lolling side to side, and he gratefully slipped into unconsciousness.