It was simple enough to find him this time. Wasn't like his recaptured baby brother had him on a leash at this point. Though it was a rather strange place, his form to the visible eyes a rather uptight old man that people, well at least the smart ones, kept clear on instinct. But here they were in some abandoned picnicking area by a small lake, rotting tourist facilities on the shore. The old coot was eating something that he was rather sure were pickle chips as he stared out across the water, still as pimp and pompous as ever.

"Michael," a pause, "or do you prefer Dean?"

"Haven't thought about it." Which he hadn't. Everyone just called him what they were used to already. "Either or."

"Have a seat, Michael." A hand was waved across the table, leisurely in its skeleton slenderness and he sat. While he didn't have a great deal of time for pleasantries even he knew not to mouth off to Death. "I believe you have something of mine you want to give back."

With a nod he pulled the ring out of his shirt pocket, dropping it into the outstretched palm. The fingers curled over it, something like a slight smile curved up on that sharp mouth.

"So if that's all, got to be going."

"Have a pickle chip, Dean," Death said tilting the bag over and he breathed deeply.

Don't argue, he told himself. It doesn't do any good to argue outside of dying and/or manners lectures, the latter of which was pretty close to dying. At least they were good. Better than good. He was half tempted to ask where the horseman picked them up at but no reason to extend this longer than necessary.

"What are your plans, Michael?"

"Have to go stop a crazy Raphi from burning the world, then get heaven to not implode I guess," he said running a hand through his hair uncertain of where this is going.

"You're Raphael problem has been dealt with."

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me, Dean. Don't make me repeat myself. You know I dislike that," Death said leaning forward against the table tapping a finger against the wood. Dean swallowed because he really didn't want to start a fight and just nodded. "Not by me, mind you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," because he got what that meant. He wasn't that thick no matter what any of his brothers' liked to believe. "Does that mean –"

"No. So I ask again, Michael. If you do not bear the responsibilities of that, what are your plans?"

The thought that Father hadn't come, hadn't spoken to him was sharpness that grew stronger with each unneeded breath. He was still wrong, always would be wrong, even more so now as something splintered inside him.

"I don't understand why you care," came out instead of 'I don't know'. The latter the much safer option and he mentally facepalmed.

A curved eyebrow was raised, something like ancient malice in those eyes, deep and unsettling as the being before him leaned forward a little more.

"I care because despite God deciding your soul should be Dean Winchester, you are still a ticking bomb. I would like to know if you are going to get a hold of yourself or if you plan on putting me partially out of business after a bad workday."

Dean swallowed because, yeah, that was a possibility he was trying not to think about. That deep gnawing nothing inside of him that threatened to just consume him until nothing mattered. Not family, or heaven or earth, or even revenge. Just the want to watch it burn. He didn't have an answer and Death leaned back, sliding the half-eaten bag across the table.

"Figure it out, Dean. I would like to know which way this world is going to swing. I do dislike surprises."

Death was rising, cane in hand, making his way back towards where Dean assumed was the main parking area. Or had been when this place was in use. Even without living things nearby the horseman still carried a strange gloom to it all, everything feeling weary and used up around him.

"Do you regret it?" he asked not sure if Death would know what he meant and the horseman stopped, looking back at him, hands resting idly on his gold-tipped cane. "Letting me live."

"No."

He was alone by the lake, the wind starting to pick up blowing ripples across the serene surface of the water.

That was that, then. Raphael was gone, heaven under control to some extent, the earth safe and he had no purpose. To return home as he was would only incite chaos in the Choir at his state. For his human family, he'd never be their Dean again - there would be no more hunts of monsters, long car rides in sullen silence after some little bickering match, or the simple day to day things like trying not to die, eating, sleeping. The coldness in him, the absolute part of him that saw evil still existing and yearned to purge that had grown quieter now whispered louder, that it could give him what he sought, and all he needed to do was obey, even as he tried to silence it.

For the first time since the mess of Lucifer's fall, he felt lost.

~x~

"I don't understand," Sam was saying again and Castiel disliked how lost the child looked. There was begging in those eyes that stared up at Gabriel beside him wanting to know why their brother was not here.

"Kiddo," Gabriel sighed and crouched down in front of Sam and he was surprised at the compassion there. Something that had shifted in his brother from the cruel bitter creature he had been when he went by Loki. "Look, he needs time. I told him I would keep track of heaven and Cas will be hanging around on earth and be like my cabana boy."

Sam rolled his eyes at that. Castiel had learned already not to question his brother's turn of phrase. That usually just got a disgruntled look and a complaint that he had spent so long on earth and not picked up on anything. Sam was back to shaking his head again.

"You know how some people take spiritual journeys to like Mecca or in Mike's case, probably a series of high-class strip clubs?" Gabriel asked and Castiel was at least grateful to see Sam smile slightly at that. "Our big brother just needs a little time now that he doesn't have to be doing something. Okay?"

"Alright," Sam said his voice still thick with uncertainty but Gabriel had pushed himself back up fully upright.

"Chin up, kiddo, got to go so they don't kill each other up there."

His brother was gone and this man, the one who he had once judged and allowed to wander down the dark path that he had been told was destiny stared up at him. Castiel was at a loss as to what to do. So much regret as to what he had done flowed through him, even with his grace restored, and he felt unworthy to be here, after what he had done, what Sam still didn't know about.

He knew leaving, making himself invisible to watch over Sam would only induce more pain so he sat beside the man, summoning up what Dean would do. Gently he placed an arm around the man, comfort still quite foreign on this plane.

"He doesn't think he has anywhere, does he?"

There wasn't a good response since it was true and his silence was all the confirmation Sam needed as he began to break. Castiel could hear some thoughts, Sam blaming himself and he longed to say it wasn't Sam's fault, it was what Michael blamed himself for but he had learned enough to know it wouldn't be enough to stop what was coming. He let Sam lean into him, the child he had once called an abomination, the man who had figured out the truth because he could still see his brother and understood, and let him cry against his shoulder.

~x~

Sammy was still having those nightmares of him dying. Over and over it seemed like every night the guy couldn't get a break. Those fears that something like him would be ganked by a monster but he knew that's just how nightmare's worked. Something always threatened to be bigger and nastier to them when he was just human. A creature around the corner, hiding in wait to suck them dry and Sam worried because he still had a soul.

A finger swipe across that forehead and his brother ceased his restless movements, relaxing into a much better dream. Cas was there, that head tilt and a nod and he knew his little bro couldn't see him but understood.

That dark need was still pushing against him as he opened his wings and flew. It was harder now as he couldn't hear like he used to. The prayers of all those souls were like a faint whisper and he had to sniff them out, find the things that Sam feared that were out there and snuff them out.

Not that it took long, it never did. At least the thing was in its home country, not that it helped the about to be eaten child. Well, it was before he grabbed it by face, picking up the little girl who was even more terrified.

"Hide your face," he told her in her tongue and she did, shaking. "I really hate your kind, Striga."

Then he unleashed his power, no need for hunter tools and plots as the monster screamed and burned to cinder under his touch. The child was quivering in the sudden silence and darkness, fingers curled up in his shirt.

"Ssh, she's gone."

That little face all full of terror was looking at him, fully ready to be afraid of him, even more so. He rubbed her back, letting some of his grace soothe her. She began to fall asleep against him, a soft smile and he put her back to bed. The dark need was still in him, wanting to make it his problem, to purge all the wicked. It was not a great idea to hang around as each time he purged something Gabriel got close. That surge of his power, a flashpoint that his brother belatedly felt but came for. It was hilarious that it was now Gabriel seeking him to convince him to return home.

Yet there was something else here that needed attending to and Dean flew to the man asleep on the dirty bed in a nearby room, so doped up and drunk that he hadn't even stirred when his daughter was screaming. That soul was black and he felt something old and ancient unfurl in him at its sight. Sammy had always worried, worried about his own soul and what he had done and while Lucifer's disease was not beautiful it wasn't this. It wasn't so marred that it had ceased to care.

"Wake," he commanded a hand outstretched, those eyes opening as the drugs wore off in a heartbeat under his power. The man skittered back, fear and desperation in his eyes as he searched under his pillow.

"Please I'll get the money," came the whine, the man's hand slid under his pillow and Dean sighed he already knew what was coming. He reached out not thinking to allow this room to block all sound as the gun was pulled, the shot ringing against the walls.

"Not your bookie or your dealer," Michael growled picking him up by his poor excuse of a shirt, its grime evident under his fingers. That faint whiff of fear and something else, the smell of lost control as the man's bladder gave. "Not even human."

He allowed himself to shadow the walls as his grace seeped out, the man's heart at the point of dying of fear alone. He snarled at him, wanting to reach in and just rip this festered tainted thing. One of his brother's experiments to show how wrong these creatures were. Just the smell of them was a stench that needed to be wiped from existence, this one balanced on the sharp edge of damnation without a contract to see it through.

"What – what –"

"What am I?" Michael asked and the man was limp now, at least understanding resistance was futile. That there was nothing and he put his hand in that disgusting hair, pulling the head back a breath before the neck snapped. "What do you think I am?"

"Angel." It was a strange reverence that this human could still feel fear in his state. To still know what was sacred.

"Archangel," Michael corrected, leaning his face close. "Your daughter almost died tonight. Tell me, would you have cared?"

"Melanie?" There was a panic, something that might be genuine the last true emotion this man felt and those eyes were trying to look in direction of her room in this squalid house. "Is she?"

"She would be better without you," Michael whispered to him and the man's eyes slipped closed his grace at a tight tension to deliver that last blow.

Dean, I know you were here. Bobby woke me up with a call but man I know, I know and I love you. I miss you.

The tension released in him slightly at the sound of Sam's voice in his grace, one of the few he could hear. That thing in front of him still caught in his grip was trembling, piss soaked, and disgusting. The epitome of everything wrong with his brother's touch.

I just want you safe. I want you to know when you're ready you can come home. We all would like to see you. You aren't alone and I'm here when you want to. And it's still weird as hell praying to my dumbass brother. Amen.

Dean loosened his grip, letting the man down on the bed who opened his eyes just slightly to see if he was still with this world. He loomed over this waste of space, mouth close to that face. "Do you want a second chance no matter the cost?"

"Yes," and he knew what this man felt for that little girl was real.

"This will hurt more than anything you have ever felt."

He didn't wait for that fear or regret to settle in as he reached in and took that soul in his palm, that scream never reaching past these walls. He burned out the sin, the addiction that addled this wretch whose back was arched, his head was thrown back in a stiff pose that ensured it was fully felt.

Tears were running down those grimy cheeks as he released the soul, the man panting staring up at him as he waved his hand, at least solving the dirt issue for now.

"Take her and run. As far away from what you have done to yourself here. This is the only chance you will ever have."

Gabriel would have attention here now he knew and as the man whispered a litany of thank you's Dean pushed off. A thousand miles away his feet touched down on the edge of a cliff. Some stupid self-sacrificing part wanted to throw himself off instantly so he wouldn't accidentally torch the world. Not that it would work and he was fairly sure that at some point he was going to stop seeing the difference between monsters, demons, and just sinful humans.

"Why am I still here?" he demanded of the air brisk in of the morning, the day breaking around him.

Of course, there was no answer and Dean tilted his head up, thinking of Gabriel looking down and he wanted to scream. Really scream as himself but it would crack the ground around him, terrify the souls nearby and he wasn't that gone yet.

He shifted into flight, looking for the next evil that haunted humanity until he became it himself.