Dean didn't care about the battle going on all around him, or the confrontation taking place between Castiel and Michael. None of it mattered the instant that son of a bitch stabbed his brother.

He scrambled to the collapsed scenery where Sam's body had landed. Dean had tears streaming down his face as he furiously tore at the debris. "Sam!" he cried, tossing a piece of board this way, a ruptured sandbag another. "Sammy, talk to me! Sam!"

Another piece was thrown aside. When Dean finally saw him he nearly fell over. He crammed his knuckles into his mouth to restrain the anguished cry that was now stuck in his throat.

Sam was sprawled on his back, blood trailing down the corners of his mouth. There was a gaping, bloodied hole in his chest where his heart should have been.

"No. Oh, God, no," Dean moaned as he took hold of Sam's shoulders and lifted him up. When his head flopped to the side Dean made a strangled sound of dismay. He gently eased him out of the debris, tried not to notice the blood still oozing from the chest wound. After drawing his brother into his arms, Dean shook his head as he smoothed the mussed hair back from Sam's brow. Tears blurred his vision. The deep ache in his chest hurt like his own heart had been torn from his body. It didn't matter that this wasn't his brother Sam; Sam was Sam as far as he was concerned. His blood. His family. And now he was dead.

First there was anger- anger at Michael for doing it, anger at Cas for letting him do it, anger at himself for not being able to predict this- before the despair crushed him. Overcome, Dean laid his head atop Sam's and squeezed his eyes shut. He murmured his brother's name, over and over, with increasing desperation before he broke down.

The sound of something crashing backstage caused him to jump. As he looked around at the chaos he realized that he needed to move, fast. Grunting at the strain, still Dean managed to get his brother over his shoulders. He pushed himself to his feet, went to turn when a brilliant flash of light drew his attention. He spun on his heel in time to see the shadow of wings unfurling behind Castiel. He had gone full-on angel against Michael- and it looked like he was winning.

Cas lifted his right hand, which Dean saw was now ablaze, before he clamped it on Michael's shoulder. The force behind the touch caused Michael to stagger. As the light surrounding Cas intensified, Dean couldn't shake the feeling that this was what had happened that day in Hell. It wasn't until the backdrop started to come apart that Dean's fascination was cut short. Securing his grip on Sam, he turned and hurried off the stage.

Those that hadn't made it to the exits rushed about wildly. Those that had been caught in the crossfire lay on the floor, between seats, over them and in the aisles. As Dean bolted toward the lounge by the bar, he heard the terrified screams of those getting torn apart by hell hounds.

As soon as Dean entered the lounge he headed straight for the space behind the bar. After he carefully propped Sam up against the wall, he peered over the counter with the intent to watch the outcome of Cas and Michael's battle. But the stage was out of sight. Left with nothing to do but wait, he settled beside Sam, his arm around his brother's shoulders. His head leaned back as his eyes drifted skyward. Fresh tears formed in his eyes.

Don't know where the hell you are right now, Gabriel, but you better get your ass back here now.

Dean Winchester said nothing in response to Castiel's greeting. He had the look of a man who had just woken up from a long sleep. His eyes darted this way and that, briefly, as if he were trying to understand, remember, recognize, his surroundings. When his gaze settled back on Cas's face, there was a moment of confusion before he suddenly collapsed. Cas caught him to his chest- barely, for tethering Dean's soul had weakened him considerably- and slowly eased them both onto the floor. For an instant he cherished the feel of this man once again against him, the knowledge that when he opened his eyes he'd be Dean again, before he gently shook him.

"Dean," he ventured, sparing a glance for the chaos raging around them; he spotted Balthazar amidst a group of demons, the flash of an angel blade. They needed to move, fast. Sam still needed help. "Wake up, Dean!"

The skin around Dean's eyes tightened, his brow furrowed, before he gave a low groan. "What the hell..." he grumbled just as his eyes opened. He looked up at Cas, blinked a few times. Recognition entered his gaze. "Son of a bitch," he breathed, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. "Cas. You did it. It's really you."

The smile alone would have been enough, but to hear his name spoken aloud, familiar and warm, banished all the years they had been apart, broke down the barrier around his emotions. For one, wonderful instant, Castiel rediscovered the happiness that had initially brought them together, and he nodded slowly.

Dean was laughing- how long had it been since he last heard it?- as he sat up and captured Cas in a tight embrace. "Damn it's good to see you," he murmured against his ear, and Cas's eyes slid closed. He couldn't describe what it felt to see Dean again, so he just held fast to him.

The embrace lasted another moment before Dean drew back. He took in his surroundings, a brow lifting. "Mind telling me why I woke up in the middle of World War Three in a circle of holy fire?"

"Later." Cas released him, pushed himself to his feet. Dean gripped his hand tightly as he used Cas for support. It nearly pulled him back onto the ground due to how weak he was. "First we have to-"

"Wait a second," Dean interrupted. Worry creased his brow as he studied Cas's bloodied face. "What the hell happened to you?"

Cas shook his head. "It's fine," he assured him. "Sam-"

"What about him? Where is he?" Dean whirled around, looked this way and that. He called for his brother a few times before turning back to Cas. Panic had now settled across his face. "Cas, what's going on? Where is my brother?"

Regret twisted Cas's heart, and he slowly shook his head. After bringing him up to speed on events- he omitted quite a few truths for the sake of convenience- Cas finished with, "Michael attacked Sam," he explained sadly. "He didn't spare him."

Dean took a step toward him. "Didn't spare him?" he echoed sharply. "Is that your way of saying he killed him?"

"I can heal him, Dean," Castiel assured him swiftly. "I've still got enough power to do it. But we have to leave this place now," he said, gesturing toward the battle tearing apart the club.

He looked around, nodded. "Right. Let's get the hell out of here," he insisted. He started for the circle of fire. "I'll find something to put the fire out and we'll get to-" Suddenly Dean doubled over, his hands gripping either side of his head.

Cas was at his side in an instant. He gripped his shoulder. "Dean!" He inspected him, thinking that it was some unseen injury causing him pain. "What's wrong?"

Dean shook his head. When he turned to face Cas, the angel saw he was breathing heavily. "I don't know. Just feels like something's grabbing me. I-" His words were lost in a strangled cry. Dean's hand shot out, grabbed hold of Cas's coat lapel so hard he actually heard the material rip.

Cas steadied him, fought against his rising panic. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. "Dean!"

"Dammit! I feel him," he panted through clenched teeth. His eyes swiftly met Cas's. "Michael- he's trying to take over-"

"That can't be," Cas replied with a frown. "I sent him back to Heaven. I- Dean!" he cried, for the other man suddenly shoved him back. He staggered, perilously close to the edge of the fire. Heat shot up his back, fluttered beneath the coat.

Dean had dropped to his knees, one hand pressed against his brow, the other balled into a fist on the floor. He was shaking all over. "Get the hell out of here, Cas," he ordered in ragged tones. "Save Sammy." His face was twisted into a mask of pain. "Go!"

"I can't," he protested. He reached for Dean, managed to hold fast to his shoulder even as he attempted to shake him off. "I'm not leaving you."

"Dammit, Cas if you don't-" he cut himself off to scream, grip his head in his hands.

Cas knelt in front of him now, both hands on his shoulders. He managed to place his palm over the red mark on Dean's shoulder. "I will send him away again," he swore, and started to speak in Enochian.

His words were cut off when Dean grabbed him by the coat lapels again. Cas stared into the other man's eyes, saw the determination behind the panic, the pain.

"You have to kill me," Dean rasped.

Cas stared. Felt his throat go dry. "What? No," he said in just above a whisper. He shook his head. "I won't do that, Dean."

Dean's hold on him tightened. "We don't have time to-" he paused to wince, took a moment to recover his composure. He was breathing harder now; when he spoke, his voice was gruff, raspy. "Kill me, Cas."

"I-"

"Just do it!" Dean shouted, and flinched as if someone struck him. Tears spilled from eyes dark with pain. "Listen to me," he gasped. His hands traveled down to rest at Cas's upper arms, but his grip remained strong. "I couldn't stop Michael from hurting Sam-" his voice broke on his brother's name- "but I'll be damned if he gets to do it to you. I'm begging you, Cas." He drew in a shaking breath, and gave him a sad smile filled with regret. "I let everyone down, but I was so damn scared that day. I realized something that morning about us, I let him take me anyway because I- I didn't want to lose anyone." His face crumpled then. "I screwed up bad. I've never been any good. Now you gotta make it right, Cas. It has to be you."

The emotionally-wrought confession resonated within Cas's mind. He found he could do nothing but stare in awestruck silence. At last, he had the reason for his agreeing to Michael's proposal. The other Dean had hinted at it that night in the barn- did that meeting happen only two days ago? Events had compressed all sense of time and place, leaving him aware only of the desperation in Dean's eyes, the feel of his hands at his arms. Of facing the end of this world alone, after all he had done to return Dean to him.

Castiel swallowed, searched Dean's face. Their gazes met and held; suddenly they were back in Maine, the unspoken emotions forcing them to cross a bridge neither was certain of its strength, of their footing. Then, he had the sense that Dean had approached it without much conviction; no doubt he believed it wouldn't last. If Cas had to be honest, he was drawn not only by the sympathy he had for Dean, but curiosity. The possibility of facing the end of days had also been a factor.

Gazing into those eyes now, and with the chasm of three years standing between them, Castiel knew that Dean had just admitted he loved him without saying it. Even after all this time, Cas didn't put much stock in the phrase, 'I love you.' They were just words to him. And now that Dean had admitted to it, Cas knew that this request was his way of reconciling for his mistake. He'd save Cas, but on his terms. All he could do now was honor this request.

Castiel reached out to caress Dean's cheek, gently. His skin was hot to the touch, as if he were feverish. He was slightly bent over, shoulders hunched, pain etched onto his face. At seeing Cas slowly lift the angel blade, there was such relief on Dean's face Cas experienced a moment's regret that death, and not life, or the promise of their being side by side, was what made him react so.

Some moments passed. Every now and then Dean grimaced, grunted, as he continued to fight against Michael. Cas could sense his brother's presence growing ever closer, knew time was short. He laid his hand on Dean's shoulder. The words did not come easy.

"Close your eyes," he instructed softly.

It was clear Dean was having difficulty speaking. He looked ready to start sobbing. As Cas closed the distance between them Dean coiled his arms around him, held him so hard Cas was sure that if he were human, his bones would have bent at the pressure. Cas brought his left hand up, slid his fingers through Dean's hair to gently hold the back of his head. He pressed a lingering kiss on Dean's temple, readied the blade in his other hand.

Dean turned his head so his mouth was at Cas's ear. "I'm sorry, Cas," he murmured in despair. "I'm so sorry..."

Cas couldn't summon the voice to speak. He dropped his head onto Dean's shoulder, closed his eyes. The blade shook in his hand. He heard Dean murmur his name, swore he said something else but it was drowned out by a throaty cry. Cas tightened his hold on him, opened his eyes.

White light shone down on them now. Cas could see the shadow of wings as Michael descended to Earth. And there, manifesting at the doors now clogged with bodies, stood Gabriel, his horn in hand.

Castiel's lip curled as his hold on the angel blade steadied. He waited until the archangel was upon them before acting.

"No," he rasped. "Not this time, Michael," he swore, and thrust his hand forward.

The angel blade passed through Dean's chest almost too easily. A sound very like a tiny sigh passed from the body Castiel gripped to him. A shrill cry echoed from overhead. There was a moment of absolute silence before white energy exploded from around them. Bands of energy tore apart the walls, the seating area, the box seats on the upper tiers. Angels and demons caught in the blast were vaporized.

When it died down Cas released the blade handle, slowly. He registered Dean's blood on his hand, warm and sticky, as he wrapped his other arm around him, but did not feel it. In fact, Cas felt nothing. He was numb. As empty as the figure leaning against him, the arms still clutching tight as if unwilling to accept the end. And, at hearing a snapping from above, followed by the swoosh of falling debris, Castiel closed his eyes. His one regret was knowing that when he died, he would not be able to see Dean in Heaven.

It had taken longer than he would have liked, but Gabriel finally had his horn back. While he had every intention to announce the next Armageddon with it, the last thing he expected was Armageddon to start without him.

The club was in shambles. Bodies of humans, monsters, angels and demons were scattered all over. Up ahead, the catwalk had come crashing down on the stage, taking with it the curtains, scenery and lights. Flames licked at the debris there. Gabriel knew that Castiel and Michael- or Dean, depending on if his plan worked- was crushed beneath it. He spent a moment mourning their loss, then sought out the Winchester brothers. If he knew Dean, he would have done everything in his power to keep them safe. It was why he hadn't felt any misgiving about leaving Sam so soon after he let him use his soul to heal. Despite their plans, it never occurred to Gabriel that he'd be ringing in this party alone.

However, as he neared the lounge by the bar, and saw Dean Winchester kneeling beside Sam, he realized just how wrong he had been.

Gabriel knew the truth before Dean managed to say it aloud. It wasn't the way Sam sagged against his brother, the dip of his head, or the ugly wound on his chest. No, not even the anguish in Dean's eyes when he spotted his approach. It was the absence of the dusky glow of Sam's soul- darkened in places due to the demon blood, red from the damage Lucifer had caused- that told him everything.

"It's about damn time!" Dean snapped when Gabriel stood over them. "What the hell took you so long? Never mind," he amended with a sharp gesture. "Well? Do your thing! Bring Sammy back!"

Gabriel gazed down at Sam in silence. Though he knew the soul was long gone, he still had the impression Sam was merely asleep. He smiled wanly. He'd spent too much time around humans.

"Hey!" Dean's ragged voice cut into Gabriel's thoughts. "Didn't you hear me? You can't leave him like this!"

Gabriel went to a knee. His gaze remained on Sam. "I heard you," he answered quietly. "And no."

"No?" Dean repeated, incredulous. "What the hell do you mean no? It's Sam!" he stressed.

"I know." Gabriel studied Sam's profile, partially hidden by his hair.

"So you gotta bring him back. You can't sit there and tell me you want him to stay dead, not after all you did to keep him alive!"

This drew a warning glance from the archangel. "Listen to me very carefully, Dean," he began in a low voice. "I know exactly who your brother is and what he means to us." He offered him a little smile. "But your part in this is over now," he said, and snapped his fingers.

A column of light shone down on Dean. He looked up sharply, panic and worry in his eyes. "Wait, Gabriel! What the hell happens now?"

"You go home. Have a beer, get laid- whatever," he added with a careless shrug. "You won't have much memory of this place. Me? I still have to clean up here. Catch you later."

Dean glanced worriedly at Sam before sending Gabriel a look of appeal, but his words were lost as the light stole him from view.

Alone now, Gabriel smiled, very softly, at Sam as he pressed his palm to his chest. He restored the flesh but not the soul- Sam was in a better place, after all- then settled beside him. Once he had arranged Sam across his lap, his head turned toward him, Gabriel let himself remember all the fun they had over the past three years, lamented that it was now at an end.

His hand glided, gently, across the top of Sam's head. "See you on the other side, kiddo," he murmured, and lifted the horn to his lips. There was a blast of sound, a burst of white light, before everything went black and silent.

Black was the first thing Dean saw when he found himself lying on his back beneath a tree. The heat and stench of Purgatory came crashing down on him, making him gag. Coughing, he forced himself onto his side, his head bowed as he waited for the spasms to pass. What the hell happened? He ached all over.

There was the sound of rapid footsteps, followed by a low growl. Dean automatically shifted into defensive mode, his head lifting in time to see a shadowed figure come tearing right for him. His hand sought and found the blade lying hidden in the leaves- how he knew it was there didn't concern him. The next instant he was on his feet, the blade swinging out in a wide arc. There was the sharp catch of it digging into a body, a pained sound that was half growl, half scream, before he latched onto the figure's shoulder and swung them both round. Dean thrust his enemy at the tree, hard. The monster slammed against it with another grunt of pain before sliding to the ground.

"Dean!" shouted an accented voice behind him- Benny. Dean turned just as the vampire reached his side. "Damn, I thought I lost you back there," he began with a shake of the head. "Shoulda known better than to think anything here can get the jump on you."

To this Dean gave a short nod. Gone was the confusion, the momentary light-headed feeling. The quick attack, counter attack, had reorganized his thoughts. Focused now, he rolled his shoulders, gestured toward the moaning monster curled up on the ground. "Time for a little chat with the mutt."

Benny secured the monster to the tree with some chains he found on the ground. Dean let the vampire question him first, but after a few unsuccessful attempts he strode away. "I don't think he knows," he muttered.

Dean didn't buy it. He just smiled, flexed his hand on the blade handle. He had learned a thing or two about getting information. Especially information of this magnitude.

Three days later, it turned out that the mutt's directions were right. As Dean approached the clearing, and he spotted the figure kneeling by the water's edge, he briefly hesitated. After so many days and nights of searching, of hoping, had he finally found him?

"Cas?" he called.

There was a moment's pause before the figure rose to his feet and turned. Dean took in the dirty, tattered trench coat, soiled uniform he had worn while in the psych hospital, the grime clinging to his face, hair and beard. But it was the look of sheer astonishment that shook Dean from his temporary paralysis.

It was the look of a man who never in a million years expected to see a long lost friend.

Dean felt a smile, a real smile, tug at his lips as he approached the angel. He had him in his arms without a second thought. As he patted the angel's back, roughly, his joy turned to heartfelt relief. It permeated his entire being to kick away the doubt and fear that had held firm to him for months.

Finally, after all this time...he'd found him.

Castiel.

He had no idea where they'd go from here, or how they'd do it, but one thing he did know for certain was that they'd do it together.

As it should be.

Author's Note:

Thank you one and all for your follows, faves and reviews! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much I enjoyed writing it. :)