Chapter Three:

That night, the two men began to make plans for their future together. Dean wanted to travel far and wide, and then settle down in their own little corner of Heaven. Dean worried his father might give them trouble, however, and Castiel worried that his meager wages could not sustain a comfortable life for the two of them.

By the very next morning, however, those little worries became irrelevant. What actually came to pass was something they had never thought of, and was far worse than what they had feared.

Three representatives from Heaven's Great Council arrived at the Winchester farmhouse, and requested a private audience with Castiel.

Dean paced his bedroom as the meeting went on down below. His heart was racing in his chest, and when Castiel returned looking grim and with all his possessions packed in a bag upon his back, Dean knew all their plans were ash.

"What is it, Cas?"

Cas bit his lip and his eyes shimmered. "There are rumors that the demons of Hell are plotting against the Kingdom of Heaven. The Queen has requested that every angel prepare for war and serve should the time come."

"But you're not an angel anymore."

Castiel smiled slightly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "They have agreed to return my wings and powers to me so that I may fight for them. And when the war is done, they will be mine to keep, along with my freedom. We can fly anywhere together, travel wherever we desire, and make a home."

"But Cas - that's only if you survive! A war with demons - it ends bloody. And if you refuse to serve?"

Castiel bowed his head. "I will be executed as a traitor of Heaven."

Dean closed his eyes and swallowed back his pain. They had been happy so briefly. Dean felt the touch of Castiel's palm once again on the skin of his cheek. He leaned into the warmth.

"I promise to return to you, Dean. And then we will be free."

Dean sulked for several weeks after Castiel's departure. He found no more pleasure in hunting the monsters of the Wood, took no joy in it. He found himself more often than not at the bottom of a long drink, numb to the world. His father urged him not to lose himself to grief.

You're one to talk, thought Dean. His father had never been the same since he lost his wife several years prior. John tried to be a decent father, but he was often distant and left the farm for days on end. By the time Dean was a teenager, he was essentially raising himself.

After a few weeks of deep depression, Dean caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He seemed to have aged a decade. Once clear skin had been replaced by lines of worry. He'd gone soft around the middle, no doubt from the excessive drink and lack of hunting.

He hadn't shaved in days.

If Castiel came back to him now, there was a solid chance he would not even recognize him. The thought haunted Dean, and he slammed his fist upon his sink in frustration. Right then, he decided he must take better care of himself so that when Cas returned, he would be worthy of him.

He started with a hot bath. He scrubbed his body and face thoroughly, until he was raw and fresh, free of dirt and dead skin. The next day, he visited the local barber, and had his beard shaved away and his hair cut short and clean.

He started a new routine. In the morning, he worked the farm. He had never had much love for the work, hence why his father brought on Castiel, but now he used it to train. He hauled bales of hay where needed. He painted the back fence, switching hands on occasion to strengthen his weaker arm and grip. He cut firewood, raked leaves, did anything and everything to keep in shape.

At night, he began to hunt again. The vampires of the Wood had grown bold in his absence, but he returned with a ferocity that was unmatched. He cut down those that strayed too near the village homes. He defeated werewolves, wendigo, all manner of evil.

He was the strongest, most beautiful, and most confident he had ever been. Heads turned as he passed in the market square, adoring eyes followed him, and word of his legend spread far and wide.

He noticed none of it, and merely continued his routine and waited for news of the rumored war and specifically of Castiel.

When it finally came, he wished it had not.

It was all in a letter with the Heavenly seal upon the envelope. War had not yet broken out, but tensions ran high between the two kingdoms. Castiel's troop had been sent on a secret mission past Hell's gates and been discovered by the Dread Demon Caine.

Dread Demon Caine, who never kept prisoners.

All angels were feared lost.

John Winchester watched the color drain from Dean's face as he read the news. "Son, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Dad."

Which is what a Winchester always said when they weren't fine.

"But I will never love anyone else."

And he never did.