The night sky was clear enough above the small motel that Dean could see every star, every planet, every imperfection in the universe clearly. It was beautiful. He never would have admitted that aloud, but in the silence of his mind and wrapped safely in the slight haze of the beer clutched loosely in his hand, he felt ok thinking it. It was beautiful, and it made him believe, if only for a second, that God truly existed.

The door to the room opened, spilling light onto the section of concrete stoop that Dean had claimed as his own. A shadow stretched out across the pavement- not lean enough to be Sam. An eternity ago, Dean had seen that shadow sprout wings before disappearing into nothingness, leaving him with a fallen angel who had lost her memories of Heaven. This time, the door closed, the shadow faded, and he was left with a fallen angel who remembered everything. He still wasn't sure which was better.

The angel sat down beside him and pulled a bottle of beer from the package between them, popping the top off on the step.

"You drink?" Dean asked.

"What do you think I've been doing this whole time, Dean?" Cas asked. "Singing in a boy's choir?"

"Nah, man. I've heard you try to sing. Definitely not your calling." He shook his head. "What are you doing out here? Thinking of returning to your night job as a stalker now that you've got your angel mojo back?"

"I wanted to ask you why you did it."

"Back to being cryptic, I see."

Castiel sighed. "You seemed to think that gaining Grace would lead to your damnation, that God is somehow displeased with you because you failed to stop Lucifer."

"Yeah?"

The angel turned to look at him, head cocked, brow furrowed, and Dean could have sworn he felt something pushing at the back of his mind, a slight pressure that increased just before Castiel's nose started to bleed. He turned away, wiping a hand across his face, smearing the blood. "Dammit."

"Dude, were you trying to read my mind?"

"Trying being-"

"That's, like, an invasion of-"

"You're better than him."

Dean blinked. "I'm sorry?"

Cas finally looked back at him, eyes wide, a thin line of red still painted down his face, running into his mouth. "I saw- heard- you're afraid. Dean, Lucifer was cast out of Heaven for his pride, for refusing to acknowledge humans for the flawed, beautiful creatures that they are. To think that you could ascend only to get cast down into Hell… do you really hate yourself that much?"

"You're the freaky mind-stalker. You tell me."

"I would, but," he swiped his hand under his nose again, clearing away the excess blood. "Aneurysms are bad."

Dean shook his head. "I messed up, ok? End of the world. Earthquakes and famine and death and destruction."

"But it wasn't your fault. Ruby and Lilith are to blame. Lucifer. Myself. We all played a greater role than you ever could have." He sighed, wiping his face across his sleeve and frowning at the drying flakes of brownish-red that stuck to the fabric. "You believed that attaining Heaven would ultimately get you sent to Hell, and yet you still ran to the tree. Why?"

The hunter shrugged, staring down into his half-empty bottle. "You know, that wasn't even the half of it? If you asked me a few months back to take your place, I would have. To feel nothing, to be perfect. But the more I got to thinking about it, the more I realized I've played obedient soldier enough for one eternity. But then the world broke open and everything changed and, I dunno. I could tell you that I saw Sam had him distracted and I just ran, figured what the Hell, and tried to save the world. I could say that I didn't want you to have to go back, to risk getting yourself tossed in the Pit. Or I could tell the horrible, selfish truth and admit that I thought I might be able to stay in Heaven if I helped 'em stop Hell. I mean, it's nice up there, right?"

"Beautiful beyond description."

"Yeah. Bet my parents are there."

Cas nodded. "They are."

"They happy?"

"Yes."

Dean sighed, took a long swig of his beer, nearly finishing it off. "They miss me?"

"More than you could ever know."

"Thought people weren't supposed to be sad in Heaven?"

"A common misconception."

"Were you sad?"

Cas took a drink before setting the bottle between his legs. He absently swiped the pad of his thumb around the rim, staring into the liquid. "I… wasn't unhappy. Not until I met you." He glanced back up at Dean, sensing the man stiffen. "That's not a bad thing."

"You fell because of me."

"Yes and no. Anna was lying. I told you, that's the incredible thing about being human. We can lie. Didn't you ever wonder, Dean, how she knew she was unhappy if she couldn't feel anything?"

Dean turned to him with wide eyes. "I never," he glanced back down, "um, no."

"I felt. We all did. Just not like you. Not to the extent that you do. Angels are creatures made of love, made to love. We feel love for creation, love for the Father, love for all people. We feel righteous fury during times of war. But things like hatred and jealousy and confusion and pain and panic and bliss and lust and joy and sadness and all other emotions were dimmed. They were dimmed by that love until we came here."

"So, walking around inside Tax Accountant was like an emotional high for you, then?"

Cas nodded. "You could say that. It was interesting. And the things that I've seen since arriving- things like free will and humor and," he blushed, "love… I don't know. I'd been told that the world was a dark and scary place, and to be greeted with rock salt and knife to the chest didn't help matters any, but the more I saw, especially of you, the more I realized that some of my brothers were just bitter. The things you experience are amazing in their subtleties. Things like taste and touch and smell. You take them for granted."

"And that's why you fell?" Dean asked. "Emotion and the five senses?"

"Kindness and generosity. Small wonders." The angel looked at him. "You heard what Uriel said. I fell and others followed my lead. They undoubtedly were born again, as infants, fleeing from battle, using my selfishness as an excuse." He shook his head. "They don't know what they're in for. What being human entails. Angels have the option to flee, to run scared, to fall. I know a human who believed he was running headfirst toward paradise and perdition and still didn't stop. That's why I fell. I was selfish once so I could be selfless for a lifetime."

"You think I'm some kinda saint-"

"It doesn't matter what I think. What matters is what you think. And you think you're worthless. You think you're a stain upon the earth. You think you don't deserve to be saved. That's what gives me hope for humanity, Dean. One among the many. I like to think I'm going to be a better person because I know you."

Dean shook his head. "You really knocked your noggin, man."

The angel took another drink and smiled. "I knew you wouldn't believe me. But it's the truth." He sighed, tilting his face up to the inky sky spotted with bright stars. "Another reason to fall," Cas muttered. "I've never felt so small."

The hunter glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "That a good thing?"

"After spending so much time feeling so big, watching and waiting, being unable to truly help in any way…" he trailed off, ran a hand through his hair. "I've had to watch wars, assassinations, disasters. Fires. I could have prevented any of them easily, but those were not my orders. I was told to simply watch. So big. It's nice to finally be on the other end. To be watched, to be able to do something."

Dean nodded. "And they're beautiful." He blinked. "I mean, you know, if you're into that kind of nonsensical, poetic shit."

Cas grinned. "Yeah. They're very nice."

"I mean, I never used to notice before, but everything now seems like it's just…"

"A work of art?"

"Stupid, simple stuff," Dean continued, his eyes far-away, staring off into the night sky. "Stuff like trees and kids and dirt. And scars and skin and scabs because there was a while there I thought I'd never actually stop bleeding."

"Hell changes people."

"Don't I know it."

"No. It changes them for the better, too. Makes them see things they couldn't before. Makes them appreciate things. The cool touch of a hand, the kindness of a stranger, that warm thrumming in your soul when you enter a church."

"What warm thrumming?"

The angel smiled. "You should try it now. I have a feeling you'll like it."

Dean shifted, finally drawing his eyes from the sky and to his companion. "So, what's gonna happen to us now? I mean, should I be worried? I'm not gonna accidentally two-finger-whammy some random guy back into the eighties or something, am I?"

"No, Dean. I suppose some practice might be in order, just to find out exactly what our limitations are. Just to find out what really happened."

"Take it this doesn't happen too often."

"An angel's Grace is like its essence, its divine soul. It's difficult to split, but apparently it can be done. It will have been weakened, obviously, but we might be able to salvage something useful."

"And Lucifer?"

"The only way to get to my Grace and Heaven now would be to kill us, extract both halves, and reunite them."

Dean nodded. "So, we should probably try to prevent that, then."

"Probably."

"And what's to stop him from going after any of the other angels that fell after you?"

"Nothing besides the fact that he doesn't know where their Grace landed. He doesn't even know where his own is. He could be searching for millennia. Killing us is the faster option."

"Great," Dean sighed. He raised his bottle, now almost empty. "To our last days on earth."

Cas grinned. "I'll drink to that."