You know, I've been here for a very long time. I remember many things.
I remember being at a shoreline, watching a little grey fish heave itself up on the beach. And an older brother saying, "Don't step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish."
I remember the Tower of Babel. All 37 feet of it, which I suppose was impressive at the time. And when it fell, they howled, "Divine wrath!" But, come on, dried dung can only be stacked so high.
I remember Cain and Abel, David and Goliath, Sodom and Gomorrah.
And, of course, I remember the most remarkable event. Remarkable, because it never came to pass. It was averted by two boys, an old drunk, and a fallen angel. The grand story. And we ripped up the ending, and the rules, and destiny, leaving nothing but freedom and choice. Which is all well and good, except...
"But what if I've made the wrong choice?" Castiel wonders. He sits alone on a park bench, the ground frosted and his fingers numb from cold. "How am I supposed to know?
I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you my story.
Let me tell you everything."
"Hello, Dean."
Castiel appeared in the passenger seat of the Impala, startling Dean Winchester, who smacked the wheel in his frustration.
"Are you alright?" Cas asked.
"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine, how about you?"
"Just wanted to check in," Cas told him.
"So any word on Satan Jr. being alive?"
"I'm looking, believe me. I just don't understand how Crowley could've tricked me."
"Well, he's a tricky son of a bitch, that's how," Dean assured him. "Doesn't matter. But if he is up and kicking, then what does matter is finding him, ripping his head off, and shoving it up his ass."
Cas nodded. "What about you? Have you found anything?"
"No, nothing yet," Dean replied after a pause.
"Where's Sam?" Cas asked, glancing at the empty back seat.
"He's keeping busy. He's tracking a Jinn in Omaha as we speak. I'm headed out there right now to meet up with him."
"I'd come if I could-" Cas started.
"Yeah, no I get it," Dean interrupted. "No worries. But Cas, you'll call, right? If you get into real trouble?"
Cas met his stern gaze with a blank one of his own. He nodded and vanished.
Castiel strode into the warehouse where Crowley tortured his supernatural creatures. He glanced over a cage, where a monster was chained and gagged. On the operating table lay Eve's corpse, blood splattering the plastic covering her and her head split open. Crowley wore a cooking apron that was soaked in various fluids.
"Howdy, partner," Crowley greeted.
"What've you found?" Castiel asked.
"Found a lot of things. For example, Eve's brain? Dead as a tin kipper. And yet-" Crowley reached into her cut open stomach, pulling out a slimy mess of little translucent orbs with his gloved hands. "-for some reason, she keeps laying eggs."
Castiel walked over to the table. He grimaced at Eve's state. She was covered in different colored blood, her skin was pale as a sheet, and slices marred her body, ranging from gashes to cuts.
"Watch this," Crowley said. He picked up a steel rod, whose tip had been roasting in an open flame, and poked Eve's brain with it.
The monster in the cage released a muffled scream and began to shake, straining against his bonds and grunting behind the gag.
"Chocula here feels every tickle."
"What is that good for?" Cas questioned.
"Apart from the obvious erotic value, you got me."
"You said Eve could open the door to Purgatory," Cas accused, annoyed with the demon's antics.
"Correct. I did. And I'm confident that she could have-" Crowley's expression shifted from casual interest to fury in a split second, "-IF SHE WAS STILL ALIVE! Single best chance to get over the rainbow, and the Winchesters killed her."
"It was unavoidable."
"You screwed up, Cas," Crowley spat. "You let the hounds mangle the pheasant and now I am up to my elbows in it."
"What is your point?"
"The point is, you're distracted, and that makes me nervous."
"I am holding up my end," Cas asserted.
"Ah, yes. But is that all you're holding, huh?" Crowley stepped forward, tipping his head. "See, the stench of that Impala is all over your overcoat, angel." He moved back, continuing to talk despite Cas' mutinous look. "I thought we'd agreed. No more nights out with the boys."
"I spoke with Dean," Cas admitted. "I needed to know what they know."
"About what? About me, maybe?" Crowley's voice rose in volume with his anger. "Because I happen to have it on good authority that your two little pets are currently trying to hunt me down!" His forehead smoothed out, the all-business smile returning. "Forgive me, but I think your might have a little conflict of interest here." In one fluid motion, he spun the needle around and stabbed it into Eve's brain.
The poor monster shrieked.
Crowley had a point, of course. My interest was conflicted. I still considered myself the Winchesters' guardian. After all, they taught me how to stand up, what to stand for...
A vivid memory of Lucifer in Sam's body, snapping his fingers, and then, indescribable agony-
... and what generally happens to you when you do.
I was done. I was over.
And then, the most extraordinary thing happened.
I was put back. And we had won. We stopped Armageddon... but at a terrible cost. And so I knew what I had to do next.
Once again, I went to harrow hell to free Sam from Lucifer's Cage. It was nearly impossible...
Pulling Sam's body from between the bars, the archangels shrieking at him furiously from within, dropping Sam on the sidewalk healthy yet not entirely whole-
... but I was so full of confidence, of mission. I see now that was arrogance, hubris. Because of course I hadn't truly raised Sam- not all of him. Sometimes, we're lucky enough to be given a warning. This should've been mine.
As Crowley yanked the needle from Eve's brain once more, he turned to glare at Castiel. "Please. I'm begging you, Castiel. Just kill the Winchesters."
"No."
"Fine. Then I'll do it myself."
"If you kill them, I'll just bring them back again," Cas countered.
"No, you won't," Crowley replied smugly. "Not where I'll put them. Trust me."
"I said no." Cas sighed. "Don't worry about them."
"Don't worry about-?" Crowley exclaimed, incredulous. "What, like Lucifer didn't worry? Or Michael? Or Lilith, or Alastair or Azazel didn't worry? Am I the only game piece on the board who doesn't underestimate THOSE DENIM-WRAPPED NIGHTMARES!?"
"Just find Purgatory," Cas told him coolly. "If you don't, we will both die. Again, and again, until the end of time. The Winchesters won't get to you." He turned and began to walk away.
"Let them get to me!" Crowley snarled. "I'LL TEAR THEIR FRIGGIN HEARTS OUT!"
~ Singer's Salvage Yard ~
"Gotta tell ya, Redd," Bobby said, regarding the demon below the devil's trap with faint appreciation. "For a filthy, lower-than-snake-spit Hell spawn, you seemed to turn yourself into a damn fine hunter. I don't know whether to kill ya or kiss ya."
Beside him, Sam leaned against a table, arms crossed.
"Oh, please kill me," Redd muttered.
"That was you that dug out that nest of vamps back in Swan Valley, wasn't it?" Bobby asked.
"That was nice work," Sam commented.
The demon grinned at him. "Eight of them on one go, roped and tied."
"And then you brought 'em to Crowley, right?" Bobby continued.
"Read the papers, redneck," Redd huffed. "The king is dead."
Bobby chuckled. He reached over, grabbed a flask, and poured holy water over Redd. The demon let out a cry of pain as his skin burned.
"Crowley's alive," Bobby told him. "You prove it just by being, you poor, dumb jackass. Crowley's alive, and his nets are still out. Except now he's using you schmucks to hunt his monsters."
Redd breathed a laugh. "Up yours."
Bobby waited, then, upon realizing he would get no answers from the demon, held out his hand. Sam pressed the demon knife into his palm. Redd's smirk vanished.
The front door swung open, and Dean stepped inside. He dropped his bags on the counter and joined the others. Glancing at the demon, he gave Sam and Bobby a subtle look.
"Redd? Where's Crowley?" Bobby asked. Silence. "No? Nothing? Okay then. Here, hang onto this for a bit." He stabbed the knife into Redd's leg.
Redd screamed. Orange light flickered around the wound, not enough to kill, but definitely enough to cause some pain. Bobby got to his feet and walked into the kitchen.
"So, what'd you tell him?" Sam was questioning Dean.
"Nothing, just relax."
"What's the hubbub?" Bobby asked.
"Saw Cas," Dean answered. "He popped in on me about two hours back."
"What'd you tell him?"
"Nothing," Dean repeated. "Told him we were on some crap monster hunt. He doesn't know that we're getting close to Crowley." He shook his head, looking conflicted. "You know, he's our friend. And we lying to him through our teeth."
"Dean-" Sam started.
"He burned the wrong bones. So Crowley tricked him."
"He's an angel," Bobby said.
"He's the Balki Bartokomous of Heaven," Dean argued. "He can make a mistake."
"Nobody's saying nothing yet."
"You think that Cas is in with Crowley?" Dean asked, incredulous. "Crowley?"
"Look, I'm just saying I don't know," Bobby told him. "Now, look, I hate myself for even thinking it, but I don't know."
Dean looked away.
"Look, Dean, he's our friend too, okay?" Sam's eyebrows pinched together. "And I'd die for him, I would, but look, I'm praying we're wrong here."
"But if we ain't, if there's a snowball of a snowball's chance here…" Bobby sighed. "That means we're dealing with a Superman who's gone darkside. Which means we've gotta be cautious. We've gotta be smart. And maybe stock up on some kryptonite."
A pause. "This makes you Lois Lane," Dean muttered.
"Look, one problem at a time here," Bobby replied. "We gotta find Crowley, now, before the damn fool cracks open Purgatory." With that, he strode back into the living room.
So they already suspected. Castiel watched the proceedings from the corner of the room.
"Where's Crowley?" Bobby demanded.
Redd snarled, "up yours."
Bobby twisted the knife. The demon screamed.
And the worst part was Dean trying so hard to be loyal. With every instinct telling him otherwise. Cas saw the emotions flitting across his face, the pain in his warm green eyes.
"I don't know where Crowley is," Redd cried.
"Are you sure about that? Cause we can twist again all the way to next summer." Bobby reached for the knife.
"No!" Redd shouted. "No, God. I never even met him. I don't deal with Crowley direct."
"Well, who do you deal with?"
"The dispatcher," Redd sobbed. "A demon named Ellsworth."
If there was a demon counterpart to Bobby Singer, Ellsworth would be it.
"No, no, listen," Ellsworth snapped. The boiling blood stilled. "I don't care. I want you to get down to New Mexico and bag me that Wendigo. Hell, hang on." He moved on to another bowl. "What? Because the boss says we're done with him." The phone rang; he answered it. "FBI, Thomas speaking. Absolutely, I sent them. Thanks for calling to check. You have a nice day now. Bye-bye."
Two demons entered the room, dragging a tied-up body behind them. They dropped it off in front of his desk and began to leave.
Ellsworth hung up. "Hey, hey, no. Not in here, you friggin' yeti. Out back."
These demons would lead the Winchesters to Crowley. And Crowley would tear their hearts out.
Castiel grabbed the retreating demons by their faces, knocking them backwards and burning them up from the inside. He settled his gaze on Ellsworth.
The demon paled. "Oh, hell no." He opened his mouth and tried to smoke out, but Cas grabbed the smoke and shoved him back inside the vessel, then disposed of Ellsworth in the same manner of the others.
I had no choice. I did it to protect the boys.
Or to protect myself.
I don't know anymore.
Dean, and Bobby rushed into Ellsworth's place, guns cocked and aimed. They scanned the area, but it was oddly empty. Sam emerged from one hallway.
"Clear from the back," he told them.
"Demons get tipped and bugged out?" Dean wondered aloud.
"Maybe they run from us now," Sam suggested. He chuckled. "I mean, that'd be a nice thought, right?"
"Yeah, if that's what happened," Bobby muttered, walking off to check the place again.
Hiding. Lying. Sweeping away evidence. And my motives used to be so pure. After supposedly saving Sam, I finally returned to Heaven.
Of course, there isn't one Heaven. Each soul generates its own paradise. I favor the eternal Tuesday afternoon of an autistic man, who drowned in a bathtub in 1953.
A rippling, colorful kite drifted across the bright sky, dipping and bobbing with the wind. The grass, green and vibrant beneath his feet, glowed with health and life. Flowers poked out of the bushes, and towering trees crowded the garden.
When Castiel turned around, he saw his siblings. Lined up in neat rows, each wearing identical suits, they gawked at him in shock. He smiled.
"You're alive," Rachel breathed.
"Yes," he replied.
"Castiel, we saw Lucifer destroy you."
"Well, I came back."
"But Lucifer? Michael?" she questioned.
"They're gone," Cas said. He stepped forward.
"It was God, wasn't it?" she asked eagerly. The other angels drew nearer, eyes wide with anticipation.
"No. It was the Winchesters. They brought down the Apocalypse."
"But you beat the archangels, Castiel," Rachel urged. "God brought you back. He chose you, Cas. To lead us."
"No." Cas shook his head. "No one leads us anymore. We're all free to make our own choices, and to choose our own fates."
As if she didn't hear him, Rachel glanced to the side, then back up at him. "What does God want?"
"God wants you to have freedom," Cas answered.
"But what does he want us to do with it?"
Cas sighed.
If I knew then what I know now, I might've said, "It's simple. Freedom is a length of rope. God wants you to hang yourself with it." Those first weeks back in Heaven were surprisingly difficult. Explaining freedom to angels is a bit like teaching poetry to fish.
And then, there was Raphael.
Castiel walked into someone's Heaven. When he rounded the corner, he saw two of his brothers guarding a third occupant inside.
"You came," Raphael drawled. His voice was low and commanding. He set down his glass. "I appreciate the courage that takes."
As Cas stepped inside, he glanced around the room. Everything in Heaven held a blurred, faint quality, as if it wasn't sure whether to exist or not. The room was filled with polished mahogany bookshelves, a deep crimson rug, and curving, plush chairs shoved into corners. Raphael was seated in one of these chairs. On the wall, a framed American flag hung.
"Whose Heaven is this?" Cas wondered aloud.
"Ken Lay's. I'm borrowing it."
"I still question his admittance here," Cas said.
"He's devout," Raphael replied. "Trumps everything."
"What do you want?" Cas took a seat across from the archangel.
"Tomorrow, I've called for a full assembly of the Holy Host. You'll kneel before me and pledge allegiance to the flag, alright?"
"And what flag is that?" Cas asked.
Raphael blinked at him, slow and deliberate. "Me, Castiel. Allegiance to me."
"Are you joking?" Cas snapped.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Raphael's expression was stiff and carefully blank as he regarded the other angel.
"You never look like you're joking."
"You rebelled. Against God, Heaven, and me. Now you will atone." Raphael leaned back. "We'll start by freeing Lucifer and Michael from their Cage. And then we'll get our show back on the road."
"Raphael, no," Cas urged. "The Apocalypse doesn't have to be fought."
"Of course it does. It's God's will."
"How can you say that?"
"Because it's what I want," Raphael said. For the first time, faint amusement colored his tone.
"Well, the other angels won't let you."
"Are you sure? You know better than anyone, Castiel. They're soldiers. They weren't built for freedom. They were built to follow."
Cas rose from his seat, eyes narrowed. "Then I won't let you."
"Really?" Raphael tilted his head. "You?" He held out his palm, glowing white, and then Cas awoke in the garden.
Every inch of his body ached terribly, and he could feel warm liquid trickling down his face. He rolled over on his side and coughed up blood, splattering the grass with red.
I'm not ashamed to say that my big brother knocked me into next week.
"Tomorrow you kneel, Castiel," Raphael said, standing over him as he struggled to get up. "Or you, and anyone with you, dies."
"The place is clean," Sam said.
"Yeah, but it's…" Bobby walked into the main room, sighing. "It's like Mr. Clean clean, you know? It's kinda OCD for your average demon."
"Yeah. So, what now?"
"We'd call Cas," Dean piped up.
"What?"
"This is usually the point where we would call Cas for help," Dean elaborated.
"We talked about this," Bobby muttered.
"No, you talked. I listened. This is Cas, guys," Dean pleaded. "I mean, when there was no one, and we were stuck, and I mean really stuck, he broke ranks. He has gone to the mat, cut and bleeding for us, so many frigging times. This is Cas. Don't we owe him the benefit of the doubt, at least?"
Sam let out a long sigh, then bowed his head. "Castiel, this is really important, okay?" he prayed. "We really need to talk to you."
Nothing.
"Castiel, come on in," Dean tried.
But I didn't go to them. Because I knew they would have questions I couldn't answer. Because I was afraid.
"Cas is busy," Dean whispered, looking disappointed.
"It's alright," Sam said. "We are too." He patted Dean's shoulder. "Come on."
"Back to square one," Bobby muttered.
"Great. Well, what do we do now?" Dean asked.
"We caught one hunter demon before, we can do it again." Bobby tried to sound firm, but it came off as hopeless.
Sam walked over to the open door, running a finger down the coat rack, before turning around and catching sight of a demon. "Dean!"
The demon tackled Dean to the ground. Sam moved to help, but another demon lunged from nowhere and collided with him, knocking the gun from his hands. A third demon threw Bobby through a window pane, filling the air with sounds of shattering glass.
"Crowley says hi," one snarled, looming over Dean.
Crowley sent his very best. I was caught as much by surprise as the rest of them. And it left me with yet another choice: I could reveal myself and smite the demons. Of course, Crowley wouldn't like it, but on the other hand, they were my friends.
Castiel grabbed the demon on top of Dean and burned him alive. Dean shielded his eyes from the blinding light. He appeared in front of Bobby and killed that demon too, then saved Sam.
For a brief moment, I was me again.
The three hunters staggered to their feet, watching Cas warily.
"It's good to see you, Cas," Dean said.
"Are you alright?" Cas asked.
"Yeah."
"Perfect timing, Cas," Sam added.
"I'm glad I found you. I come with news."
"Yeah? What?" Dean questioned.
"I firmly believe Crowley is alive," Cas told them.
"Yeah, you think, Kojak?" Dean teased, chuckling. "Well, Bobby, what do you think about Cas saving our asses? Again?"
Bobby offered a regretful smile. "I think we owe you an apology."
"Why?" Cas asked, knowing full well why.
"We've been hunting Crowley this whole time," Sam admitted. "And keeping it from you."
"We thought you were working with him," Bobby continued.
"You thought what?" Cas said in disbelief.
"I know. It's crazy, right?" Dean laughed nervously, fearing Cas' reaction.
"It's just that you torched the wrong bones-" Bobby cut himself off. "It doesn't matter. We were wrong."
"You know," Cas said, stepping closer. "You could've just asked me."
"And we should have," Dean agreed. "We never should've doubted you. We just hope you can forgive us."
Wonders never cease. They trusted me again. But it was just another lie.
"It's forgotten," Cas told them.
"Thanks."
"Yeah, thanks Cas," Sam said.
"It is a little absurd, though," Cas remarked, smiling. "Superman going to the dark side. I'm still just Castiel."
Dean's grin faded, but when Cas looked at him, he forced another smile. "I guess we can put away the kryptonite," Dean managed.
"Exactly."
Of course, I didn't realize it at the time, but it as all over. Right then. Just like that.
The laboratory doors crashed open as Castiel stormed inside. "You sent demons after them?"
"You kill my hunters. Why can't I kill yours?" Crowley asked, scowling. He was now back in his classic black suit.
"They're my friends," Cas growled. He towered over Crowley by several inches, adding to his intimidation.
"You can't have friends, not anymore," Crowley told him. "I mean, my God. You're losing it."
"I'm fine."
"Yeah," Crowley muttered sarcastically. "You're the very picture of mental health. Come on, you don't think I know what this is all about?"
"Enlighten me."
"The big lie, the Winchesters still buy it. The good Cas, the righteous Cas. And as long as they still believe it, you get to believe it. Well, I got news for you, kitten. A whore is a whore is a whore."
Castiel grabbed Crowley by the collar and slammed him against the wall, pinning him like a butterfly to a board. "I'm only gonna say this once. If you touch a hair on their heads, I will tear it all down. Our arrangement, everything. I'm still an angel... and I will bury you." And with a flap of wings, he vanished.
Rattled, Crowley stepped away from the wall and glanced back. The solid concrete was covered in a spider web of cracks from the amount of force Castiel used. He brushed off his coat, unnerved.
I asked myself, "What was I doing with this vermin?"
"This is not how synergy works!" Crowley shouted.
As if I didn't already know the answer.
Raphael was stronger than me. And I wouldn't survive a straight fight. So I went to an old friend for help.
Cas watched Dean rake leaves in his backyard, invisible. It was a cold autumn day, before all this happened.
But watching him, I stopped. Everything he sacrificed, and I was about to ask him for more.
"Ah, Castiel," Crowley mused. "Angel of Thursday. Just not your day, is it?"
"What are you doing here?"
"I want to help me help ourselves," the demon replied, cryptic as always.
"Speak plain."
"I want to discuss a simple business transaction. That's all."
"You wanna make a deal? With me?" Cas questioned. He scowled at Crowley's smug expression. "I'm an angel, you ass. I don't have a soul to sell."
"But that's it, isn't it? That's all of it. It's the souls. It all comes down to the souls in the end, doesn't it?" Crowley winked.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about Raphael's head on a pike," Crowley replied. "I'm talking about happy endings for all of us, with all possible entendres intended. Come on. Just a chat."
"I have no interest in talking with you."
"Why not?" Crowley asked. "I'm very interesting. Come on. Hear me out. Five minutes, no obligations. I promise. I'll make it worth your while," he added.
Cas glanced back at Dean, who continued to rake the leaves, unbothered.
I was no fool. I knew who Crowley was and what he did. But I was smarter than him, stronger. I see now that I was prideful. And in all likelihood, I was a fool.
Crowley took Castiel down to Hell.
Except, it didn't look like Hell.
It was a massive line of souls, stretching down a seemingly endless hallway forever. The lighting was an odd yellow, and a number total racked up to 6,611,527,124.
"Where are we?" Cas questioned, confused at first.
"You don't recognize it, do you?" Crowley waved a hand at the line. "It's Hades, new and improved. I did it myself."
"This is Hell?"
"Yeah. See, problem with the old place was most of the inmates were masochists already. A lot of, 'Thank you sir. Can I have another hot spike up the jacksie?' But just look at them."
The last digit went up one. A droning voice over the P.A. system called, "next." The line shuffled up one step.
"No one likes waiting in line," Crowley said, grinning at his accomplishment like a third grader.
"What happens when they reach the front?"
"Nothing. They go right back to the end again." He wiggled his eyebrows. "That's efficiency."
"You have four minutes left," Cas muttered, unimpressed.
"What are planning to do about Raphael?" Crowley asked, moving forward with his pitch.
"What can I do besides submit or die?"
"Submit or die? What are you, French? How about resist?"
"I'm not strong enough and you know it," Cas refuted.
"Not on your own, you're not. But you're not on your own, are you? There's a lot of angels swooning over you. God's favorite. Buddy boy, you've got what they call sex appeal."
"Thank you," Cas said, voice dry. "Get to the point."
"Angels need leaders, so be one," Crowley told him. "Gather your army and kick the candy out of each and every angel that shows up for Raphael."
"Are you proposing that I start a civil war in Heaven?" Cas inquired, wheeling around to face the demon.
"Ding, ding, ding. Tell him what he's won, Vanna."
"You're asking me to be the next Lucifer," Cas snapped.
"Please. Lucifer was a petulant child with daddy issues." Crowley hesitated a moment, as if expecting the archangel to somehow rise from the Cage and smite him, but nothing happened. "Cas, you love God. God loves you. He brought you back. Did it occur to you that maybe he did this so you could be the new sheriff upstairs?"
A pause. Cas shook his head. "This is ridiculous. The amount power that it would take to mount a war-"
"More than any of us have ever seen, yeah," Crowley drawled. "But what if I said I knew how to go nuclear?"
"What do you mean?"
"Purgatory, my fine feathered friend. Purgatory." They rounded the corner, leaving the endless line behind. "Just think about it. An untapped oil well of every fanged, clawed soul. I mean, what's that over the year? Thirty million? Forty? Just sitting there, plump and rich for the taking."
"And how would you find it when no one ever has?" Cas questioned.
"We'll need expert help."
"From whom?"
"From experts, of course," Crowley evaded. "I know two eerily suited Teen Beat models with time on their hands."
"No. Not Dean," Cas asserted. "He's retired and he's to stay that way."
"Fine. Then I know of a certain big, bald patriarch I can take off the bench. The point is, they can get us to the monsters. The monsters can get us to Purgatory. I know it."
"And what's your price in all of this?"
"Just half," Crowley replied.
"Half?"
"My position isn't all that stable, ducky," the King of Hell admitted. "Those souls would help, just like they'd help you. Besides, wouldn't you rather have me in charge down here? The Devil you know?"
There was a lengthy pause before Castiel spoke next. "This is pointless. Your plan would take months and I need help now."
"Granted, yes. But just to show you how serious I am about this scheme, how about I float you a little loan?" Crowley offered. "Say, fifty large? Fifty-thousand souls from the Pit. You can take them up to Heaven. Make quite a showing. It's either this or the Apocalypse all over again. Everything you've worked for, everything that Sam and Dean have worked for - gone. You can save us, Castiel. God chose you to save us. And I think, deep down, you know that."
I wish I could say I was clean of pride at that moment... or the next.
Castiel strode into Heaven with purposeful intent. Raphael turned around to face him, one eyebrow raised, as light flashed from Cas' palms, temporarily blinding the archangel.
"There will be no Apocalypse," he announced for the other angels. "And let it be known, you're either with Raphael or you're with me."
And so went the long road of good intentions - the road that brought me here.
"Castiel," Dean begins, clasping his hands. "We need you for a little powwow down here, so come on down."
"Hello," Cas greets. He stands in the entranceway.
"Oh, Johnny-on-the-spot," Bobby mutters.
"You're still here," Cas notices, glancing around Ellsworth's base.
"Yeah, we had to bury the bodies," Sam explains.
"And we found a little whiskey," Dean adds. "Thanks for coming."
"How can I help?" Cas asks.
"Oh, look." Sam flipped open a lore book. "We, um - we have a new plan. We think we've finally figured out a way to track down Crowley."
Cas steps down and walks towards him. He slows as Bobby rises to his feet. "What is it?"
"It's you," Bobby replies. In one swift moment, he lights a match and drops it.
A ring of holy fire bursts to life around Castiel, effectively trapping him. He spins around, eyes wide with surprise and confusion. He meets Dean's regretful gaze with his own.
"What are you doing?" Cas demands.
"We gotta talk," Dean tells him. He gets to his feet, joining the others.
"About what? Let me go."
"About Superman," Dean answers. The accusations spill from his lips as easy as whiskey. "And kryptonite."
"How'd you know what I said?" Bobby questions. "How long have you been watching us?"
"You know who spies on people, Cas?" Dean snaps. "Spies."
"Okay, just wait," Cas says, waving his arms. "I don't even know what you mean."
"What about this demon craphole?" Sam asks, referring to Ellsworth. "How is it so, uh, next-to-godliness clean in here?"
"And how exactly did Crowley trick you with the wrong bones?" Bobby accuses.
"That is hard to understand," Cas tries to placate them. "It's hard to explain. Just let me go. Let me out and I can-"
"You gotta look at me, man." Dean's voice softens, his tone shifting to something like begging. "You gotta level with me and tell me what's going on. Look me in the eye and tell me you're not working with Crowley."
Cas holds his gaze for several moments, the words unwilling to leave his mouth. Dean's gentle green eyes gleam with hope.
Then Cas looks away.
"Son of a bitch," Dean whispers, exhaling sharply.
"Let me explain," Cas tries again.
"You're in it with him?" Dean presses his lips together. "You and Crowley have been going after Purgatory together? You have, huh? This whole time."
"I did it to protect you, all of you."
"Protect us how?" Sam demands, shaking his head. "By opening a hole into monsterland?"
"He's right, Cas," Bobby agrees. "One drop got through and it was Eve. And you wanna break down the entire dam?"
"To get the souls," Cas clarifies. "I can stop Raphael. Please, you have to trust me."
"Trust you?" Sam cries. "How in the hell are we supposed to trust you?"
"I'm still me," Cas urges them. "I'm still your friend. Sam, I am the one who raised you from Perdition."
Silence. They stared at him, all in varying degrees of shock.
"What?" Sam breathes. He shakes his head, scowling. "Well, no offense, but you did a pretty piss-poor job of it." As he watches Cas' eyes, flitting around the space like he's nervous, a new thought comes to him, so terrible he can hardly force himself to voice it. "Wait. Did you bring me back soulless on purpose?"
"How could you think that?" Cas asks, incredulous.
"Well, I'm thinking a lot of things right now, Cas," Sam replies.
Cas shakes his head. "Listen." A heavy sigh escapes him. "Raphael will kill us all. He'll turn the world into a graveyard. I had no choice."
"No, you had a choice," Dean corrects. "You just made the wrong one."
"You don't understand. It's complicated."
"No, actually, it's not," Dean says. "And you know that. Why else would you keep this whole thing a secret, huh? Unless you knew that it was wrong?" Dean stepped closer to the roaring flames. "When crap like this comes around, we deal with it, like we always have. What we don't do is we don't go out and make another deal with the Devil."
"Yeah, it sounds so simple when you say it like that," Cas mutters. Fire dances in his pained blue eyes."Where were you when I needed to hear it?"
"I was there. Where were you?" Dean asks. "You should've come to us for help, Cas."
"Maybe."
Suddenly, a low rumbling begins to fill the area, causing the group to look upwards. The air reeks with the scent of sulfur, and the droning cacophony of smoke demons buzzes in the distance.
"It's too late now." Cas stares at them, desperation coloring his voice. "I can't turn back now. I can't."
"It's not too late," Dean pleads. His voice breaks. "Dammit, Cas, we can fix this!"
"Dean, it's not broken." As they watch the demons cloud the windows, Cas shouts, "run! You have to run, now!"
The hunters head for the doors, but right before passing through, Dean hesitates. He glances back at Cas, still trapped within the holy fire ring. They exchange one, final glance, before Dean slams the door behind him.
All at once, the clatter outside goes quiet.
Crowley steps inside. He takes in the scene; Castiel, standing in a circle of fire; the Winchesters, gone; and the pitiful, heartbroken expression Cas wears.
"My, my," Crowley muses aloud. "Playing with fire again?" A quick snap of his fingers, and the fire flickers out.
"If you touch the Winchesters," Cas starts, storming forward.
Crowley vanishes and appears behind him. "Please, heard you the first time. I promise, nary a hair on their artfully tousled heads." He flourishes his hands grandly. "Besides, I think they've proven my point for me. It's always your friends, isn't it, in the end? We try to change, we try to improve ourselves. It's always our friends who gotta claw into our sides and hold us back." He chuckles. "But you know what I see here? The new God and the new Devil working together."
"Enough," Cas says. His voice is low and threatening. He steps closer, until he and Crowley are inches apart. "You stop talking. And get out of my sight."
"Well," Crowley mutters, feigning disappointment. "Glad I came. You're welcome, by the way." He moves away from Cas and goes to walk away, but halts. "You know the difference between you and me?" he asks, sneering. "I know what I am. What are you, Castiel? What exactly are you willing to do?"
Then the demon is gone.
Dean Winchester sleeps peacefully, his arms crossed over his chest. Moonlight slants over him, illuminating the angel warding drawn on the windows. His eyes flutter open. He groans softly and rubs his face with one knuckle, scanning the room, and then his gaze lands on a shadowy figure at the foot of the couch.
Castiel looks down at him. "Hello, Dean."
Hiding his surprise, Dean pushes himself into a sitting position. "How'd you get in here?"
"The angel-proofing Bobby put on the house, he got a few things wrong," Cas replies.
"Well, it's too bad we gotta angel-proof in the first place, isn't it?" Dean leans forward and gets to his feet. "Why are you here?"
"I want you to understand."
"Oh, believe me, I get it. Blah, blah, Raphael, right?"
Cas steps closer, his tone desperate. "I'm doing this for you, Dean. I'm doing this because of you."
"Because of me," Dean scoffs. He pinches the bridge of his nose and turns away. "Yeah. You gotta be kidding me."
"You're the one who taught me that freedom and free will-"
"You're a frigging child, you know that?" Dean snaps, whirling around. "Just because you can do what you want, doesn't mean that you get to do whatever you want!"
"I know what I'm doing, Dean."
"I'm not gonna logic you, okay? I'm saying don't, just because. I'm asking you not to. That's it."
"I don't understand," Cas whispers.
"Look, next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things I have to family, that you are like a brother to me. (haha brother-zoned) So if I'm asking not to do something, you gotta trust me, man."
A pause. "Or what?"
"I'll do what I have to do to stop you," Dean replies.
"You can't, Dean," Cas says. "You're just a man. I'm an angel."
"I don't know, I've taken some pretty big fish."
Cas looks away, as if he wants to be ashamed but can't. "I'm sorry, Dean."
"Well, I'm sorry too, then."
And then Cas is gone, and Dean is alone.
"So, that's everything. I believe it's what you would call a tragedy from the human perspective. But maybe the human perspective is limited. I don't know. That's why I'm asking you, Father. One last time. Am I doing the right thing? Am I on the right path? You have to tell me. You have to give me a sign."
Cas tips his ocean blue gaze to the flat sky.
"Give me a sign," he prays. "Because if you don't, I'm gonna ju- I'm gonna do whatever I... whatever I must."
The sky is quiet. Castiel waits, hoping that someone will tell him what to do. Praying for guidance. There is only the crunch of frost beneath his feet.
God is silent.
Castiel closes his eyes and hangs his head.