"Cas!" Dean screams at the sky.

He looks around wildly, too much happened in too short a time to be suddenly just alone. The barn burns steadily to his right. Despite the warmth emanating from it, he feels too cold, the wind hitting his bare chest. He watches it burn for maybe another minute like he's in a trance before he shakes his head and digs the heel of his palms into his eyes. Pain pulses dully in his shoulder from the jab he got knocking his father- knocking Azazel down. He ignores it and the breakdown he wants to have. He's got shit to do.

Sucking in a deep breath and pushing it out in a huff, he lowers his arms.

Okay. They're far enough out in the middle of nowhere that it'll be a while before anyone sees and reports the smoke. He has time. He sure as hell can't carry his dad all the way to the Impala. He's surprised he managed to get this far and is exhausted. Mentally, physically, fucking not touching emotionally at the moment. Focus. The Impala… they have to have it around here somewhere.

Dean hesitates but after another breath, looks down. His skin's turning… fuck, start moving. Gotta do this. Get it over with. He squats next to his dad and barely seeing him, pats his jean pockets, then fishes inside of his jacket until he finds the keys.

It only takes him a few minutes to find her, stashed in the woods near a dilapidated old house of whoever must have lived here forever ago. Dean gets in the car and has the instant urge to drive off. Just leave. Go to Sam. Ellen. Jo. Bobby. Cas' name flashes in his head and he shakes it.

He has to do it. His dad made sure he knew how for a reason.

Throwing a hand over the back seat, Dean pushes down every thought he has and tries to set up the next part in steps. One thing after another so he doesn't have to think about what he's doing. Wood, salt, fire, then he can leave. He backs the car up all the way back to the body.

After he's broken off enough wood from the section of the barn not touched by the flames yet, Dean stacks it as best he can with his good arm, his shoulder making each movement excruciating, but he ignores it. Ignores everything except what task he has to do next. He unlocks the trunk and grabs the bag of salt. Once he has a thick ring around the makeshift pyre, he sets it down on the ground.

Biting his cheek, he squats down again and begins to go through his father's pockets. Sets out his wallet, lighter, knife, colt… he quickly checks the barrel. Two bullets left. There'd been four when he'd last seen him. It musta been some fight… before they got him. Dean smiles bitterly, shoving it in the back of his pants and swallows the burn in his throat. Finally, he gently pulls his arms free of the jacket.

Suddenly there's nothing else left to do. But the hardest thing. He drags his dad by the arms over to the wood. Bending down he gets an awkward grip under his waist and sucks in a breath at how it feels like he's hugging him, then heaves him up onto it. A few seconds to reposition him right - because it had to be right- and without taking his eyes off him, Dean picks up the bag to pour a line from his neck down to his boots. Tossing the bag aside and with one last stray plank of broken wood, he lights it from a corner of the barn, the heat hurting his face. By now smoke billows high into the dark sky and he coughs hard several times into his shoulder. Dean doesn't even glance at the stacks of bodies inside. He has his own dead to take care of.

Arm shaking, Dean watches it move like it's not part of him, lighting several spots. His eyes sting as he stands there numbly and waits to make sure he catches. That he'll burn. He could do this right. He'd failed, didn't kill their demon... but he could at least give his father his Hunter's Funeral.

Sniffing unconsciously, he waits. Longer than he should. When the police and fire trucks come he can't be here. Not next to a barn full of corpses.

He shrugs on his dad's jacket to cover his bare chest with its bloody symbol, flaking now. Can't do much about blood on his hands. He feels like an impostor in it, but its fits. Taking a corner at the bottom and rubbing his fingers over the worn leather, he thinks about how he never woulda dreamed it'd fit when he was 11.

When he can't see his dad anymore, Dean picks up the wallet, lighter, knife and throws them in the trunk, immediately slamming it shut. Turning his back on the pyre, he gets in the front seat and starts driving away. As fast and as far as he can get.

"Dean?" Castiel calls with his eyes closed. He groans and shifts as he comes back to consciousness. He has to hang his head and gather the energy to lift it. His body has almost healed itself but he's still weak. He must have been very close to death.

"I don't think so," a female voice tells him.

He frowns, blinking and tries twice before he can prop himself up on a shaky arm. Squinting around in confusion, he realizes he's lying on a long white couch, in a room with opaque glass panels. The sparse furniture is soft gray as is the carpet and walls. Everything is bland. Neutral. Sterile.

He's been here before.

"Welcome back, Castiel."

The voice pulls his attention to his right where Naomi is sitting crossed legged in a stiff chair, hands clasped in her lap. Naomi. She was no warrior. She hardly ever left… she might never have. He takes a moment to feel the overwhelming warmth of his brothers and sisters grace all around him - calling out to his own.

He was back in Heaven.

Castiel forces himself to sit straighter and not lean back like he wants to. He can't show weakness right now.

"Dean."

The small barely there smile on her lips never wavers. "You already said that."

"I need to see him."

"You need to see me."

Shaking off the last of the fog in his head, he gets determinedly to his feet. Thankfully, they support him.

"No," he says, ready to leave.

There was suddenly no door when he turned around. Each wall looks the same now, making it feel more like a prison. Not that this room was never meant to welcoming. Naomi just patiently waits for him to assess each wall, looking for the exit she was hiding from him but he was either still too weak or she was too adept at it.

Sighing, he finally turns back, "You don't understand."

"You're right. Help me to understand, Castiel." Her tone is maddeningly calm and he begins to pace angrily as he talks.

"Dean's father is dead! I need… I need to go to him." He remembers all at once the bitter truth of Uriel's betrayal. Speaking outloud without realizing it, he whispers, "If it wasn't for me… Uriel would never have-"

"Yes, tell me about Uriel."

Brow pinched in anguish and gnawing guilt, Castiel frowns and looks back to her. "He was a traitor. He was working with the demons. Did Gabriel not tell you?"

"Gabriel has spoken more than once on your behalf with that silver tongue of his."

She sounds unimpressed and Castiel begins to realize the gravity of the situation he is in. He's in Heaven. He's talking to Naomi, not Michael. He killed another angel.

"I had to do it."

She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. "For this Dean."

Castiel tries to weigh each word carefully, Naomi watching him closely.

"Uriel would have been sentenced to death, once his crimes came to light."

If his crimes came to light. Had Dean not distracted him, more likely Uriel would have killed him and managed to claim it was Castiel that was twisted by the demons. But reminding her of their ignorance at this moment was not wise.

Face turning a little harder, Naomi leans just a few inches closer. "So you did not kill him for a human then?"

This was it. What she wanted to know. What she wanted to trap him in. She would sense the falseness in any statement and he could not hide. Closing his eyes, he condemns himself with the words. "In that moment, it did not matter that he was a traitor. I killed him to protect… my human."

The quiet in this constructed space is harsh and stifling. In the distance, his sibling's voices chime together like sweet bells but the pleasant noise isn't welcome and he shuts it out. Finally he sighs and opens his eyes to judge her face.

Naomi tilts her head and leans back again. "And therein lies your ruin. It's the chink in your armor. You are a soldier, Castiel. Our soldier."

She gets up and straightens her suit jacket primly even though it's unnecessary.

"That you killed a traitor, you did well. That you did it for one of them…" she goes around to chair behind her desk and sits, folding her hands on the surface. "You cannot serve another above Heaven. Perhaps you will come to remember that in time."

The words send a spike of panic in his heart. "Please. Can I… allow me to say goodbye to him. I won't interact with humanity again. I'll do as requested. Go as directed."

"No. I'm afraid that won't be possible. It has been decided that you will be undergoing Revelation."

The cuff on his arm burns and he hisses as he covers it with his hand out of reflex. When the pain fades, he slowly drags his fingers over it to see a dark tarnished red instead of gold.

Helpless and feeling a burning in his eyes, Castiel balls his fists so he doesn't lash out. Attacking her won't change this.

"Please." He has to say it even though he can tell by her smug twist of lips that there is nothing he can say that will sway her.

"So you see, we have time to talk about your burdens. Do not worry, Castiel. We will correct the wayward path you've taken."

Dean drives for two days, nothin' but highway and flat plains on each side. He's driving blind without a direction or intent. His thoughts circle like vultures taking bits out of him over and over. He's lost everything. He failed, let Azazel get away, had to burn his dad, lost Cas… He doesn't even know if he's alive or dead. Dean prays to him, Gabriel, Balthazar, over and over and over again. Screams at them for answers but no one ever comes.

On the second night, he finally pulls off the road and drinks half of the bottle of Jack he got last time he fueled up. In-between sips, he mumbles things to his angel.

Just tell me you're alive.

I burned him, Cas. It's what he always told me I'd have to do but shit…

Goddammit, this can't be it.

I mean, I fucking died… right in front of you. If it wasn't for that Billy- fuck, if it wasn't for Balthazar… and no one would have been around to salt and burn me.

Where the fuck are you?!

Please, Cas. If you can come… please…

Thankfully, he eventually stops his pathetic begging and passes out into a fitful sleep. When he comes to with massive headache, sun blaring in east, he reluctantly shifts to a sitting position. He stretches the collar of his shirt to check the stitched mess he made of the cut in his shoulder. It'd scar but what was one more?

Rubbing his face, and taking a deep breath, Dean turns over the engine. A few more seconds, and he pulls out onto the road and starts back in the direction of where he needs to be.

When Ellen opens the door, her smile lights up her whole face in obvious surprise. He hadn't called. He didn't know what to say or how to say it. After she gets a good look at him, the happiness slides off and away. He continues to just stand there, eventually hanging his head. Ellen presses her lips tight and steps forward to take him into a hug. His arms hang loosely at his sides, but he leans in and lets her squeeze him tight.

"Well, come on, boy," she sniffs, pulling back. "Get inside. You're home."

"Tell me about Anna."

"Anna?" The jolt of pain at hearing her name brings Castiel out of his thoughts. Dean had been praying to him again. Dean. He heard his voice and it was bittersweet. The anguish in it was awful, making his wings twitch with the need to go to him. But he had to sit here and endure while Naomi talked at him.

She gestures to the vial of grace that glows dimly inside his shirt. "That is what I believe you called Anael."

"She has nothing to do with this." Castiel says, with annoyance he can barely keep contained. He didn't want to be here any longer. He wanted to listen for Dean again, it was hard to concentrate on her seemingly aimless questions and hear him.

"This will be easier when you stop fighting me."

"I am hardly fighting you," he glares at her. He bit his lip to refrain from asking if she wanted to see what fighting her looked like.

"You were very close to this sister in particular."

He squints at her with wariness. "Yes."

She nods with sympathy he knows not to trust. "She fell when you were a fledgling. That must have been very traumatic for you."

Castiel grits his teeth and looks away.

"And now I understand she is dead?"

"Humans die," he says evenly but still unable to meet her eyes.

"Dean will die." That has him whipping his head back but she only smiles and continues, "He is human after all."

His muscles stay tense. Was she threatening him?

"Let's talk about the battle over Lucifer's cage. Several angels were lost."

"Everyone would have been lost if Lucifer was set free!" He gets up angrily and paces again, unable to sit calmly. "As it was, Balthazar barely arrived in time. Alastair cut Dean's throat! The prophecy would have been completed if-"

"Yes, the prophecy. You knew of it."

"Of course," he growls. "I told Michael as soon as we knew."

"Ah." She nods as if she's thinking and it feels as though she has lured him into a trap. "Did you not think that if you were to kill Dean preemptively…"

Naomi lets it hangs in the air.

"No."

"Yes, Castiel. If Dean had been killed the moment you knew of this prophecy, many of your kind would be alive right now. There would have been no chance for the demons to get as far as that night. No goat, no sacrifice."

That's all Dean was to her. A sacrifice that the demons were squabbling over and he was obsessed with. Castiel sinks back onto the stiff chair. "May I see Gabriel?"

"Have you ever considered falling?"

The question takes him completely off guard and though he opens his mouth twice, he eventually closes it without answering. Instead he wraps his wings around him, and stares at the opposite wall. Any answer he gives... if she asked him as early as a week ago he would say no and have been able to mean it. Now… he can't answer. If he does then she will want to explore that further. Explore the feelings and reasons and thoughts that lead him down that road so they can correct him. He cannot talk about this with her - about his connection to a human that made him think of it. Fleetingly. But still he thought of it. He resolves not to answer her again, but wait quietly until she dismisses him.

"Was it quick?"

They sit side by side on the weathered picnic table in Ellen's backyard. Dean stares at his hands clasped tight over top his bent legs.

"Yeah. Real quick. He didn't feel it, I don't think."

Sam was quiet most of the last half hour, only throwing out questions every few minutes as seemed to think of them. It was hard to talk about it, but once he got this out, he didn't plan on ever talking about it again.

Sam looks up and asks, "He say anything? I mean, at the end?"

Dean clears his throat and quickly says, "Yeah. Yeah... he said to look out for you and that he loved you a lot."

Sam snorts and shakes his head. "Liar."

Dean sighs and licks his lips. "Like I said it was real quick Sammy."

"What did it?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm gonna handle it."

"Was it demons?"

Dean turns to him quickly. "Where the hell did you hear about demons?!"

"Jo."

"Awesome," he rubs his eyes and breathes out tiredly. He needed sleep.

"I asked Ellen about mom… the real story. So yeah, I know about them. I'm not a little kid anymore Dean."

He's right. He's not a kid anymore. When Dean was busy fighting off the monsters in the dark, Sam had grown into a preteen. He'd blink and he'd be a teenager and so on until he was married with a family one day. It made him feel a hell of a lot older than he was. He felt ancient at that moment.

"You're right. You deserve the truth."

Sam nods and sits a little straighter.

"Yeah, it was demons."

"Are they gone?"

"Not all of them. Not yet. But like I said, I'm gonna handle that."

"Why?!" Sam shouts from next to him, startling Dean a little more awake. "Why can't you just stay here!"

"Sammy…"

"Dean, you're just gonna go off and get killed! Only no ones gonna show up to tell me! Why can't you just stay with me. Live a normal life for once?"

"Because I have to make it up to dad! I had him, Sammy. I missed my chance."

Sam screws his face up in a petulant frown and picks up a stick next to him to start whacking idly at the table.

"And because if I don't… he could come after you. Or Ellen. Or Jo. That's how these sonofabitches work. We'd always be looking over our shoulders."

Ellen's at the back door. She waves once when he catches sight of her and walks away.

"C'mon, let's go get somethin' to eat."

Sam throws the stick away and vaults off the table. Dean steps up next to him and hooks at arm around his head to pull him into a loose headlock as they walk. He pushes back at first but when Dean holds him tighter, Sam encircles his waist and stops them both. They stand there together like that for a long time.

Dinner is domestic. Comfortable. He feels out of place. Jo's boyfriend Ash is a new addition. He's a weird squirrelly dude that's some kinda techie genius and rocks a mullet. Jo glares daggers at him when Dean says he digs his haircut. The family dog, Bones, is a big happy presence at his knee begging with big sad eyes for a scrap. It feels like a family. Pouring drinks, passing food back and forth, talking - idle stuff, nothing too heavy. Nothing about dad. He wouldn't mind this. For a while. Maybe he'll stay. Just- just until he can lace back up his boots and grab his knife. Maybe… just for a while.

Dean volunteers to wash dishes, because after almost an hour he needs a little room from the domesticity.

Jo saunters in and grabs up a dishtowel to start drying dishes. "You alright?"

Dean shrugs and tries to smile. "Cute boyfriend. Real xfiles weirdo vibe he's got going on."

"Uh huh… shut it." She bumps his hip.

"No really. And the hair… brave choice."

Chuckling, Jo says, "Well I'll hold my breath that you'll be bringing around some lucky girl for me to make fun of."

Dean pauses washing and she sobers. "Sorry, I shouldn't be joking right after-"

"No, it's not that. I, uh.. " He puffs out a breath. Imagining Cas here with everyone, sitting at the table next to him was just stupid. That'd never happen even if he did ever come back again. "Nevermind, I'm happy for you, kid."

Jo slides him a look considering. "Did you actually have something serious?"

Dean doesn't look at her but concentrates on scrubbing. "I don't know what it was."

Cas had been always on the outskirts of his life since he was 12 whether he knew it or not and it'd changed him. Even though technically they'd only had a few days together, it seemed like so much longer. So much more. It that moment, he'd been a little bit happy. A little less numb. But Cas was probably back where he belonged so what was the fucking point in getting all weepy about it?

Patting him on the shoulder, Jo says, "Well screw her. If she couldn't see-"

"It was a he, Jo." Dean says it quick because he can't take lying about Cas. Even letting the assumption slide, he can't take it.. not with the loss of him still so fresh. It'd feel like something petty to cling to letting Jo believe it was some girl he'd got hung up on – a small betrayal to him.

Jo's eyebrows arch almost comically high. "Oh."

Dean grits his teeth and grins awkwardly. "Yep." He washes the same dish another time just to have something else to look at.

"That's cool."

Dean snorts, daring to glance at her. He can tell she's stumbling over what to say next. "You gonna be weird now?"

"Nope. Zero weirdness." She looks at the ceiling and thinks. "Well okay a little weirdness but I'm steadily moving past it."

"Good," he grunts and finally hands her the plate. "Now make yourself useful."

After making the call to Bobby, Ellen sets him up in the den. It was a hard conversation, but it had to be done. It was the last person he had to inform of John Winchester's passing. Now he could try and shove it deep and as far away from where it could hurt him as possible.

The den has a couch, blankets, an old box tv. Not bad. He turns onto his back with a hand under his head and stares at the ceiling in the dark. He won't pray to him. Not tonight. Tonight he'd be stronger, damnit. Either Cas wasn't… wasn't able to see him or he didn't want to. Ripping himself up over this, wasn't gonna make it any easier. It doesn't stop him from saying his name out loud before he rolls over and tries to fall asleep.

Gabriel perches on the roof of the neighboring house, sucking a grape blow pop. Candy wrappers litter the surface around him. He watches all the lights go off in the house where Castiel's hunter is sleeping.

He seems to be staying here for the time being. When he hunts, it's only a town or two away, always back before nightfall. He's not going after Azazel. That's good. Smart hunter. Maybe he'd live yet.

A few hours and several types of candy later, there's a flap of wings and a gust of air. Michael lands next to him, causing Gabriel to internally groan.

"Have you caught our brother's infatuation with this human? It did not end well for him."

"Nope. Just taking in the sights."

"So you are reducing yourself to a Guardian then? You are a warrior, Brother. Why are you watching over Castiel's pet?"

"Last I checked, I wasn't supposed to be on patrol."

"No."

"Then I'll enjoy my 'me time' if you don't mind."

Gabriel smacks his gum loudly hoping it will annoy Michael enough to leave him in peace.

"They've allowed him amongst the host again."

Gabriel sighs exaggeratedly without looking at him, finally saying a begrudging, "Thanks."

Michael is gone as quickly as he came leaving him to his vigil. Gabriel watches the quiet house for another hour, then goes to see Cas. He finds him in a tranquil garden, sitting with his arms encircling his bent knees on a step near at the edge of a pond.

"Hey, jailbird," he says too upbeat. It sounds off even to him. "Heard you finally got set free."

"She will call me back again."

"Ew. More face time with the queen of killjoys. Lucky you."

When Castiel doesn't respond, Gabriel digs in his pocket and tosses him a starburst. It bounces off his brother's chest, getting no reaction.

"C'mon, at least talk to me."

"I'm tired of talking."

Gabriel shifts his weight and rubs his neck. "He's uh, okay, you know."

Castiel finally glances up at him. "You've spoken with him?"

Gabriel winces. "No. Dean-o is officially on a no contact list for angelic visitors."

Castiel bows his head again.

"But I went and checked up on him a few times."

"What was he doing?" His brother asks staring at the water, dragging fingers through it.

"Hmm, let's see. Throwing a football with some kid-"

"His brother. Sam."

"Yeah, well mostly doing normal non-hunty things. Think he might have given up the nomad life."

Castiel feels a pang at the thought of Dean easily slipping back into a normal life with his loved ones. It's confusing because he should want Dean happy with his family. "I'm glad."

Gabriel squints at the red cuff. "So it's official? They uh... they really did it?"

"A century."

Gabriel sighs and sits heavily next to him.

"I suppose I was fortunate. We did have some time together before… this."

"Some sexy time?"

Castiel frowns at him. "It wasn't about that. It was more than that."

Gabriel knocks his wing with one of his own. "Yeah, I know."

"Who has been placed in our- in your garrison?"

"Hael and Rebecca."

"Hael? She was a fledgling."

"Yep. Balthazar's her mentor."

Castiel twitch into almost a smile. "Really."

"Yep." He makes the 'p' pop.

"Poor Hael."

Gabriel chuckles.

"I think the worst part of this is that I will be mourning him long after he forgets me. Long after he dies."

"Hey hey, who could forget you. You're adorable."

"I am not," Castiel rolls his eyes at his brother's words.

"I mean, sure no sense of humor. Like nill. But at least you got your looks-"

Castiel shoves him so he tips and falls over a bit into the pond. He smiles for only a breath then his face falls again.

Gabriel snaps and is dry before he squats next to him again. Scooping up a handful of pebbles, he begins to toss them at the water so they hop and skip in ways that aren't natural.

After several minutes, Castiel whispers, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"You know what…" giving him a sidelong glance, he finishes, "watching over him."

Gabriel shrugs. "I was in the neighborhood.

He settles in after a few weeks. Every day hurts but he fakes it for his brother. Some days he feels it more than others. Spending time with Sam helps. This is the most they've seen each other in a long time.

One particularly hard day, Sam gets home from school and finds Dean in the den holding a black feather. He must have been caught up in a memory for too long and staring at it because he doesn't try to stop him reaching up and touching it.

"Cool, is that from a blackbird?"

"Hey!" Dean grabs it from roughly out of his hand.

Sam mumbles, "Uh.. sorry."

Closing his eyes, Dean shakes his head and tries to sound natural. "No, it's fine." He carefully places the feather back in his bag out of sight.

"What was it from?"

Dean debates for a second, trying to settle on an easy lie but then the truth just spills out of his mouth.

"Angel."

Sam's eyes pop wide. "No way!"

Dean sits back down heavily on the sofa. "Yep. There's angels, just like there's demons."

"They've got black feathers? I thought angels were supposed to have white wings."

"Well this one had black, I guess..."

"What are they like? Do they have halos? Harps?"

Dean snorts. He'd asked Cas where his toga, harp and halo were the second time he saw him. "Nah, they're actually kind of a bunch of assholes." Rubbing his neck, Dean amends, "Well mostly. Some of them aren't too bad."

His mind flits over Gabriel cutting him free when he was upside waiting to be sacrificed, Balthazar bringing him back from the edge of death, Cas… Fuck, just Cas. He's unresponsive for too long and Sam slides his attention to the newspapers he has spread over the coffee table. He picks one up Dean had been looking through earlier.

"What're all these for?"

"Oh, uh it's how I find cases."

There was a possible salt n' burn job a few towns away that looked promising. Nothing too far. Not yet. He'd have to move on soon, but not yet.

Dean took a few minutes to show Sam the signs of a case versus and what was probably human stupidity. One guy falls on his table saw, accident. Four guys die by power tool malfunctions… it's a case.

"Wow…" he seems impressed and it makes Dean a little proud to have his little brother's admiration… until he follows up with, "when I'm older, I'm gonna be a hunter."

"What?" He yanks the newspaper out of Sam's hands. "No, you're freaking not! Sam, dad didn't do this- I didn't do this – just to lose you the same way. You're gonna go to high school, have a first crush, a prom and mushy butterflies-in-your-stomach love with someone."

"Dean-"

"Then you're going to college, get some fancy job… you can be anything and you're gonna have it all, damnit!"

"And you?"

"What?" Dean tries to get control of his voice and stop barking but it's an effort.

"What about you? You don't get all those things. Why do I?"

"Because you're different." You're better, he thinks to himself.

"You deserve all that too! Mushy butterflies and stomach love, and-"

Dean bursts into laughter and Sam punches him in the shoulder. They wrestle for a few minutes until Sam wiggles out of a headlock and shoves him away, laughing a little breathless.

"I mean, you should have good stuff too, Dean."

He shrugs and gathers the newspapers up. "It's not all bad."

Sam's frowning at him in a way he can tell is gonna mean trouble for him.

"Dean, I uh wanted to ask you about something."

"Shoot."

"I overheard Jo telling Ellen you had a… someone."

Dean flushes. Freaking teenage girls.

"Yeah." He grunts out, not facing him. He busies himself messing with putting the newspapers in his duffel.

"Are you ok? Maybe they'll… if you're upset about it, why not try to get back together?"

Dean squeezes his eyes tight and tries to push down the bitterness. When he turns back it's with a forced smile. "Yeah, maybe. Thanks, Sammy."

Feeling awful afterwards and with the sounds of Sam's shoes still thumping upstairs, Dean rips the feather out of his bag and crushes it in his fist. Almost immediately, he smooths it back out in desperation. It's fine again. Like it always is.

Pinching between his eyebrows with two fingers, Dean closes his eyes.

Ya know I kept thinking 'after.' After we killed the demons. After the dust settled. After this was all over… I didn't think the last time I'd see you would be like that. All bloody and half-dead being carried back home. Thought we'd have a goodbye at least. Or… Godamnnit Cas, fuck you for making me feel like this all over again. And fuck me for letting you.

"My darling brother. Do you plan to spend the entire century by this dreary pond?"

Castiel glances up at Balthazar then back to the still water. "I like it here."

"Yes, I can see that. Are you still going to your little therapy sessions?"

"Naomi is… persistent."

"Among other things." His brother shakes his head and pulls out his blade to flip it idly in the air. "Taking away your travel privileges wasn't enough?"

"Apparently she is helping me. She reminds me of this often."

"And pray tell how is Ms. Pencil Pusher helping you?"

"We talk."

"Oh this should be good. About what?"

"Anna. Dean. Uriel. You. Gabriel. Michael. Dead angels. All the wrong choices I've made and how I might have chosen otherwise."

"Wow that really is like therapy."

"It's painful."

Balthazar is silent, not seeming to know what to say next.

"Last time, it was about his family."

"Who's?"

"Dean's." Castiel stares at the glassy water, jaw tightening. "The demons found them because of me. Because I couldn't stay away from him and- and it was my fault."

"That's on Uriel, you idiot. Don't let her cake on anymore guilt. You already-"

"Stop."

"Cassie…"

"Gabriel told me you are instructing Hael."

Balthazar seems torn but lets it go, like he knew he would. "Yes, I would be delighted if she'd stop being so wide-eyed about things like the majesty of a fire-hydrant." After a moment he allows, "I suppose her youthful exuberance is not that awful, just tiring."

When Castiel only hums noncommittally, Balthazar glances around at the isolated quiet. Fidgeting. He doesn't seem to do well in the tranquil atmosphere. "They all ask about you, you know. And the human you killed for. You're quite the item of gossip."

"None will approach me. I'm more of an oddity than ever."

"Well I know we're not the one you want, but you always have me and Gabe to pester you."

Castiel watches the shadows from the sinking sun stretch over his bare feet. In a few minutes, the day will start a new and be bright and cheery. He likes that moment in this Heaven the most. The grass seems so vibrant and the noises from birds and insects that have long been dead fill the air.

If Balthazar is still next to him, he doesn't know. He should really make an effort to listen to his brothers when they visit him but it's easier to sink into himself and listen for Dean's voice.

"He still prays to me." Castiel says with a hollowness even he can hear. "They're mostly angry, confused words all in a rush, but I wait for them." He looks up at his brother's concerned expression then back at the pond. "I don't know how I will endure this once the prayers stop." Castiel lets the quiet grow between them, reaching up to clasp the vial of grace hanging from his neck for comfort. Absently he asks, "Do you think it hurt?"

"Did what hurt, Cassie?"

"When Anna fell?"

Author's Note: Okay, two more chapters to go. Still with me? Next chapter won't take two weeks. Pinky promise. Hopefully it'll only take a few days. Thanks as always for reading and your thoughts. It helps more than you'll ever know.