He groaned before he even opened his eyes and they were his eyes no matter how strange it was to own a body with a soul. That had to be a new one to most, well, any angel. As soon as his eyes were open he snapped them back closed, everything was so bright and radiant and just not human it made him queasy.

"Breath, for Christ's sake," he commanded himself trying to slide back, let what he was used to taking over. It worked; things were only a bit gleaming now instead of too much all at once.

Pushing himself up he already knew where he was, Bobby's spare room before the rest of his senses tried to overload him with information. If he was all angel it would be different, wouldn't be so damn bad. All he had were scraps of memories, most of them nightmares, with no big answers, no revelations. Like someone had hit a mirror with a sledgehammer then expected him to put it back together. A lot of pieces and some were probably ground down to dust.

He'd have to talk to Gabriel about being a bit more gentle and swallowed back the grief that he was fairly certain his brother had abandoned him all over again.

Not now, he told himself getting himself up, the strange sensation of being much more, stretched out, too big for this body, and it was overwhelming. Yet he wasn't all here. He was wounded and Lucifer was running around waiting to get him. Killing him could end up being merciful and his baby brother never did understand mercy. Lucifer would always be that kid that liked to pull the wings off of small creatures to watch them suffer. He would love to get his hands on him like this, all broken up. Christ, he couldn't even remember how to call his sword to this plane.

He rubbed his face, trying to merge his human life and angelic. Sam had picked up on something, something with what had happened with Anael and a rush went over him. It was him standing in front of her, feeling nothing. Just empty, pressing his hand to her, watching her flameout knowing that disobedience was to be punished by death.

Images flowed and separated, some kind of frickin' angelic disassociation that he had had a conversation with himself, healed Sam, and went to Cas. Whispering to him that he had to go forward and pushing him, unseen and unknown.

His mind was still protesting, even with his grace restored in pieces that Uriel had been there. Dean thought he had talked to him, did the bastard know? Did he report to heaven? Was he confused? Did he do something so the traitorous, murderous son of a bitch wouldn't tell?

Was he far enough gone that he had created some kind of projection? Was seeing him what drove Uriel to his defection and violent ways in the name of Lucifer?

The memories were mashed together, what he thought happened wasn't the same as what had and he was terrified at what he had actually done. There had been a bright light over dad, the idea that his reality wasn't well-founded, and the entire extent of his madness was unfolding before him in mixed up images that could never be pieced together.

The idea that he had tried to sell himself hopelessness disguised as duty made bile rise in the back of his throat.

"Not helping," he said to the empty room.

That chill he had felt, that there was nothing left, no rage or love, just the empty need to obey was still deep and gnawing in him.

Gotta get up, he told himself. I can't sit here and drive myself crazier.

He still had his wings, foreign and welcomed at the same time. Pushing them out he could feel them catch on the unseen gateways he traveled on, had traveled on for eons before this point.

Cas would probably be offended after all his complaints about angel airlines. Little dude would take it personally that he wasn't a good flyer or something.

At least he wasn't in the panic room. Though given that mutilated or not, he was still an archangel, there wasn't a whole lot to hold him down. He wondered if anyone was here. Wasn't like sitting here mulling and trying to put together his two halves would answer that as he made his way to the door.

"Well you're up," Bobby's wary voice floated up from the bottom of the stairs and Dean blinked a few times at the man standing there.

"Bobby, your –"

"Yeah, yeah. Your, I guess, brother did it when I got the panicked garbled version," Bobby answered, voice short, and Dean knew that tone. The one that said I still love you but I am so pissed that I am trying not to shoot you. "So I got legs. What I need to know is what you're doing."

"Still me, Bobby."

"Uh-huh, just a more super-powered and confused looking version."

Dean didn't miss how the man moved back as he came down the stairs, didn't miss the small movements that told him in no uncertain terms to stay away. There was no one else here, he was clear enough now to pick up on that, which meant Gabriel probably had them. Waiting to see what was going to happen. If he was going to run out and burn down the world in his current state.

It didn't help the part of him that was programmed to obey pounded in him. The fear of being disobedient, of displeasing Father and, holy hell, was the whole human part of him was having problems with the God thing right now.

"You fly?" Bobby was asking and he turned his attention back to the man still in the hallway, face pale but set.

"You want me gone."

"Son," Bobby stopped trying to correct himself and Dean shook his head.

"I still have my soul. I'm still Dean. I just happen to be a broken archangel."

The old hunter took off his ever-present cap, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. This was awful, even more so with the knowledge of it being his fault. He had ended up this way and broke in hell as an archangel. A friggin' archangel even if he wasn't fully himself or had any of his grace it didn't matter in the end because he had broken the seal. He set this in motion and couldn't hold his crap together enough to save Sam. Not to mention heaven being off the rails and he only could hear their echo right now.

"Dean," Bobby tried but he could hear it in that voice, would always be able to hear it now.

"I'll leave," he said stretching out his wings again, feeling the ebb and flow of the current in them. "I don't want to see you terrified of me."

Before Bobby could answer he pushed off to somewhere safe and far away, somewhere that he wouldn't be found for a while.

~x~

When the call came, Castiel was surprised at how tentative it was, no note of command just a quiet request, and after a glance over at Gabriel, he answered, unsure what to expect in the aftermath of all this. He alighted beside a lake that reflected the deepening shadows of twilight. A small park area across on the other side that he saw some humans still in, none paying them any mind, the land around them expansive and flat with tall grass and a few clusters of trees.

"I'm surprised you came."

Michael's back was to him on the shore, the man skipping rocks across the placid water surface. Castiel tilted his head, the archangel fused with that soul now knew he was there but made no hostile act towards him.

"I will not leave you unless you ask me to."

Some sort of strange laugh, something that didn't belong to a human or an angel and it made him tremble. Michael was hurt and while he did not think Dean would intentionally harm him he worried. He worried since he believed Dean had hallucinated, that part of Michael's fractured grace had been active and killed Anael when she killed Sam. Despite what she did, he knew Michael's power, his love of Father, of his obedience, even if he had not seen it in so long.

"It was Raphael that exploded you, cast you down. I didn't hurt you, Cas," Michael's voice was soft and the angel made a soft sound of assent. "Well outside of our first meeting. Really friggin ironic, considering."

Castiel stepped forward as Michael still had not turned. His brother's face was blank, the same way he had always accused other angels of having, of being too stoic.

"Used to take Sam here, a long time ago, if we were in the area. Good place for this," Michael said, managing to skip another rock across the surface. Castiel was fairly certain there was no mojo, as they would put it, involved. "How is he?"

"Shaken, a bit scared. We explained to him what we know."

Michael leaned his head back staring up at the sky that was slowly turning a soft pink of a sunset in its overcast state. "I'm still here." Michael finally tilted his head to take him in. "I'm still Dean, Cas."

Castiel made a small movement to show he understood but it was hard. Hard to see the soul he dragged tattered and bleeding from the pit begging to be thrown back because he was unworthy like this. To know it had been a part of something more and how far heaven had fallen. Of how Dean could even survive when Michael, as fractured as he was, was still so strong.

Of the crimes he had committed in the name of heaven against this friend and brother.

"I already know most of them," Michael said, slight smile before he returned his attention back to the lake. "I'm not stupid and you think loudly."

"I am sorry, for Sam –"

"Sam wasn't your fault. Not in the end," Michael cut him off letting another rock dance across the water's surface. "Sammy made his own choices. Not everything was his fault but he still chose poorly. I forgive him, though."

Then Michael was just there in front of him gripping his shoulder face inches away and Castiel remembered Dean's lectures on personal space. He didn't try to free himself, just looked resolutely ahead. "I forgive you too, you know."

"Thank you," Castiel responded, fully expecting that forgiveness to come with the point of his blade. Instead, he got a laugh, something much cleaner and clearer that danced like the rocks had on the lake.

"Hell, Cas, I can't remember how to manifest my blade properly here right now." Michael was smiling like it was the best secret in the world. "I can't properly defend myself but you know what I do remember?"

"What?" Castiel asked as he felt it was a prompt, something Dean liked to do.

"The day you were made, little brother." Michael gently cupped his cheek before pulling away. "I am sorry for the pain you carry, for how you are now."

"I would do it again," he said since it was true. He would to save this world, even if this was the outcome of his sacrifice. To give them all a chance. "I am, however, glad to know it was not you who ordered my torture in heaven."

Michael's face had a curious look to it, something that was both anger and grief as Castiel watched.

"I'm, God Cas, I'm sorry that happened to you."

"You would have stopped it if you could have," Castiel said, certain on that point. That this man who had once been his friend would have prevented a lot of things if they had known sooner.

"Still you're friend," Michael said and then laughed. "Loud thoughts. Man, I know I complained but I get it now. I haven't found a volume button on some things yet. It's a little fritzy in here still."

Castiel could only stare at his brother. He was falling, feeling the slow flow into all the new sensations that humans had. He could not imagine suddenly being slammed into it all at once. He was not sure he would be able to handle how overwhelming it all was.

"We need a plan to return Lucifer to his prison, there is much to be done." Michael clapped him on the shoulder and Castiel watched him stare back off across the lake remembering a childhood he should never have known. A human and archangel fused together.

Perhaps all was not lost yet.

~x~

"Hey, De – I mean Michael," Sam stuttered, wiping his hands on his jeans because he was sweating. This was something that looked like his brother, he reminded himself and then got an eye roll.

"Jesus, a man gets some grace up in him and y'all act like he forgets everything. Still Dean, Sammy." His brother had a glower on him, something only Dean could pull off and he wanted to believe. He so did because it meant his brother wasn't swallowed up forever.

"Dean," he said and felt like a slow toddler.

Fortunately, his brother just hugged him at that point and he got to stop talking which he felt was a good thing.

"Gabriel, we will talk about you abandoning me later. I can only handle so much awkward crap in one day," Dean was saying as Sam remembered that, yes, there was another archangel here. One who was nervous, shifty, and looking rather flee-y.

"Always a sweet talker, Mikey," came Gabriel's response and Sam noted he was still across the room leaning up against the wall. "Found out what I think happened to the rest of you."

"And that would be? We ain't got all day here. Sit, Sam, before you fall over and make a crater in Gabriel's construct," Dean told him and Sam threw a bitch face though his brother was right.

So he sat his over-grown ass down on the sofa and tried not to think about how he was the blood addicted junkie who screwed a demon and then screwed over the Prince of Heaven who was his own brother all along. Because if he started thinking about that again he'd probably cry and get Samantha comments and he couldn't handle it. He would never be able to come to terms with the extent of the damage he had done to just his brother and tried to pull himself together when he saw Dean glance at him.

"Spit it out, Gabriel. Got things to do here."

"Fine, you always were impatient," Gabriel muttered and Sam figured this wasn't good news. "I don't think the grace you don't have is actually missing."

"Aw, so those holes in me were always there. Awesome."

"If you shut it while I finish," Gabriel snapped as Dean raised an eyebrow, "I mean it's your soul. All that extra energy that was you got folded up into your Dean soul there. The fragments that are left weren't needed or lost maybe if you were injured."

"That should not be possible," Castiel was saying and Sam wanted to agree here. That sounded insane but Gabriel just shrugged.

"Don't ask me but it's the best I got, especially when I had to rearrange you a bit in there to not be so, well, cray-cray."

"Did he always have that grace then?" Sam asked then realized he should probably be asking Dean that instead, but it was Gabriel who answered all the same.

"I didn't smell it before and guessing he would have hulked out way before if he had his grace all this time. Guessing you made yourself uncomfortable throwing around angel-be-gone oil and blood and wiped it out yourself even if it invited hostile critters through the door."

"Awesome." Dean stared up at the ceiling and Sam had a terrible realization that his brother had zero ideas what had really happened in those minutes. "Good to know I'm still great at planning ahead."

There was a gnawing sensation in him, a cold chill that made him wonder if the angel portion all locked up in there was trying to get this whole thing back on track. If maybe, if Dean was that fragmented, then whatever part was Michael was attempting to try to obey and get things back to how he thought God wanted.

A curious look from Dean and Sam swallowed, reminded himself he was the human in the room with a bunch of mind readers and busied himself with trying to get a fleck of dirt out from one of his nails and not by simply chewing it down.

"Any wild notions as to when I melded with my other self?"

"Touched any trees recently that made you feel all tingly and good?"

"Not that I recall, no. Memory's a bit screwed up but don't remember any tree humping recently."

"Just in the past?"

"Gabe, you are my brother but I will stab you."

Sam swallowed as they bickered because yeah the Archangel Michael, his brother, had suffered in hell and there was something terrible about that. That God would let it happen, to let his brother hurt that much and then he had been an asshole –

A hand was on him and the world tilted at the force of angel travel. That strange dizzy sensation and he was sitting on the shore of a lake. He squinted, fairly certain where he was even with just the moon above them reflecting on the water. Dean was squatting beside him, his face with the weird look only he could get when he was concerned and not wanting to show it.

"You looked on the edge of a meltdown so I pulled you. Because I can do that now. Always told you I was an awesome brother, Sammy," Dean said thumping himself down beside him on the shore.

They were quiet and Sam didn't know where to begin. It wasn't something he could run from anymore, the sheer magnitude of this. He couldn't push it down and away and rationalize the whole previous year where he had just left his brother because Dean was too weak.

He knew the truth now and something felt spoiled in him, rotten and festering, wondering how Dean had even put up him for so long after they had stood on the brink of annihilation as Lucifer screamed upwards.

"You made some bad choices –"

"I betrayed you," he got out because it had to be said. Had to have it out there and in the open. Because in the wake of this, of knowing what had happened, he was essentially Lucifer all over again even if Satan was still separate. His brother looked at him and even in the dim light available, there was a sharpness to those features now. "I can't -."

Words wouldn't come and he wasn't even sure what he wanted to say. It would never be enough.

"Okay, Sam," Dean said quietly since Sam knew he was losing it and his brother sighed, pulling him close. "Doing the crying thing? Yep, doing the crying thing. God, Samantha."

"I don't think angels should blaspheme."

"Well, technically I'm only like half-angel crazy glued to a banged-up soul so I don't know if it counts," Dean said rubbing his shoulder and Sam wanted to point out that the banged-up soul was his fault when he got a sharp knock across the shoulder blades. "My being in hell was never your fault, Sammy. Never. Yeah, you did bad things but you ripped yourself back from the edge of damnation and aren't responsible for my trip downstairs. Got it?"

A soft 'okay' was all he could manage.

"Good. Now cry it out, you big baby, because we got stuff to do and a world to save. A bunch of ass to kick in heaven and I need you to not break down every five minutes. Get it out and then pull it together."

As they sat alone here, he was surprised to feel Dean's hand in his hair, a warmth in him that granted him peace for the first time in so long.