AN: Thanks for reading, guys! It's so weird to think about other people actually reading something I made up. I just wanted to say a few things before you read this chapter. I am in no way a religious person, but I respect people that are and I really enjoy that part of Supernatural. That being said, I apologize if I get any of the religious aspects of this story wrong, in this chapter or any upcoming one. I will do my best to do research and I will try to make it sound as authentic as I can. I just don't want to offend anyone. Thanks again for reading this first story of mine!

*** I do not own any part of Supernatural or any song/other material mentioned in this story.

A Place Between Heaven and Hell

"The door slammed loud and rose up a cloud of dust on us
Footsteps follow, down through the hollow sound, torn up.

And you will go to Mykonos
With a vision of a gentle coast
And a sun to maybe dissipate
Shadows of the mess you made "

- Mykonos by Fleet Foxes

It was a brisk morning and the sun was hardly peeking through the trees along the jogging path as Micah cursed at her new running shoes. She didn't even know why she was out there. She had never been much of a jogger, and if she did ever get the motivation, she would just go for a run around her apartment building block. But for whatever reason, today was different. Today she had decided, with no knowledge as to why, to drive out to the nature park a few miles away to take advantage of the path that wound its way through the trees.

When she awoke that morning at her regular time, she was instantly in a sour mood. It was suppose to be the first day of her vacation and she had been planning on an amazing day of sleeping in, followed by doing absolutely nothing. But when her radio clicked on at 4am and the chatter that came from it was about nothing but a strange meteor shower that had taken place the night before, she reluctantly rolled out of bed. There would be no hope of getting back to sleep, so she set her mind on taking her aggression out on her new running shoes.

As Micah rounded a curve in the path, she felt like her feet were suddenly glued to the ground. Nothing had blocked her route, she hadn't stepped in anything, but she was just consumed with the desire to stop moving. Baffled with the strange sensation, she began to take in her surroundings. When her gaze came to rest on the right side of the path, she was unexpectedly filled with the urge to begin walking into the trees. There was no path there, and no reason she should be going into the woods alone in the half-dark, but it was as if something was calling her into those trees. Almost like something just out of eyeshot was leading her to a new destination.

As abruptly as her trance had begun, it was gone. She found herself standing at the edge of a clearing about 40 feet into the trees from the asphalt pathway. She removed her headphones from her ears and looked around. What the hell am I doing out here?, she thought. Is this what going crazy feels like? This must be what going crazy feels like. There's no other earthly explanation. She lamented in her head about her acute mental state as something caught her eye. A tan trench coat on the ground a small distance away. It was opulent against the green and brown surroundings. Like there was a hazy glow around the fabric laying on the ground, but only in Micah's vision. She approached the coat, which she could now tell had a man occupying it, with apprehension. He was laying on his side facing away from her.

"Sir?…Sir, are you all right?", she said, fearing both getting and not getting a response. She walked a little closer to the man. She was close enough now to notice that his side was raising and falling with labored breaths. "Sir?", she was a little glad she hadn't happened upon a dead body out in the middle of the woods. "Are you okay?" There was still no response. Then Micah saw the blood, glinting in the light of the rising sun. At the ends of the outstretched tan sleeves where two bloodied hands. She became swifter in her steps as walked around the feet of the unconscious man. His face was dirty and tear-streaked, but appeared uninjured. Micah knelt down in the grass and crunchy leaves that surrounded the stranger and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. As if she had doused him with cold water, the man's eyes shot open.

"Are you alright?", she asked with much concern. "I'm going to help you. Are you hurt anywhere else?", she added, looking down at his hands. He didn't respond in words, but shook his head and tried to sit up. She could tell that he was panicking and she searched her mind for something reassuring to say. "I'm not going to hurt you. Do you want some water?", she asked as she handed her water bottle to him. He took it with one of his bloody hands and drank in desperate silence. "What are you doing out here? Can you tell me what happened to you?", she didn't want to overwhelm him, but his anxiety level was becoming mutual.

She gave him time to answer after he finished drinking, but he just sat there breathing rapidly and glancing around the clearing as if he was expecting to see someone other than her. "Are you okay? Were you mugged? I read in the paper a couple weeks ago that's happened a few times out here", she realized she was talking very quickly out of nervousness. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "My name is Micah. I'm going to do my best to help you".

"Micah?", the man questioned with his head tilted to the side as he looked up at her for the first time. "Like the Jewish prophet", his voice sounded rough, like it had been a while since he had used it.

"Um, I guess." She was glad he had finally said something, even if it was about something innocuous.

"He was a good man", Castiel said while exhaling. Micah wasn't quite sure what to make of this statement, but chalked it up to him being a little foggy and ignored it.

"Are you able to walk? I have a first aid kit in my car. I can clean up your hands if you come with me", she said looking down at his injuries again with trepidation in her eyes. The man also gazed at his bloody hands. The look on his face was of confusion. Almost like he had forgotten he had sustained any damage.

"I am able to walk", his tone slightly robotic.

"Okay…Good." There was hesitation in her voice. "What's your name?" She was grateful that he seemed to be calming down.

"Uh…Jimmy. My name is Jimmy", Castiel lied. He had come to the conclusion long ago that his actual name was a strange one in this time, mostly due to Dean rarely using its full form. His initial reaction was to trust this woman that was so kindly offering him help, even when his mind shifted back to the betrayal he had just suffered. He frowned as he looked away from her and became aware that his body was trembling slightly.

"Okay, Jimmy. Let's get you back to my car.", Micah said as she stood up and began to assist the weak man from the cold ground. She saw now that he was wearing a suit and tie. The oddness of the situation was finally setting in for her. She had gone out for a jog and was now helping a ruffled business man she found in woods back to her car. So much for her day plan of doing absolutely nothing.

They reached Micah's car as the sun made its full presence known in the sky. She helped Castiel ease his stiff body onto a bench a small distance from the vehicle and then turned to retrieve the first aid kit from her trunk. As she walked back to the bench, she noticed that 'Jimmy' was slouching in his spot with a look of defeat on his face. "Hey, are you okay?", she asked as she took the seat next to him.

"My physical being is fine, other than this", he lifted his hands towards her. She took them in hers and began to inspect the wounds, ignoring the man's odd phrasing again. Anyone would sound a bit off if they had just been found unconscious in the middle of a park.

"I'm not really a doctor, but I am sure some of your fingers are broken. And there's a lot of dirt in your other wounds. I'm going to try to clean it up as best I can", she expressed while inspecting each of the man's fingers.

"Thank you. I do not deserve your kindness", Castiel said in a mater-of-fact tone. He was surprised at how clear he could feel the pain in his hands. Micah was being very gentle, but he was experiencing this physical pain in a way he never had before. Castiel was used to feeling healable damage to his vessel as more of a dull ache. Still not enjoyable, but never as distinct as he could feel it now. This was tangible pain. This was human pain.

"It's no problem. I'm used to broken bones. I'm a radiology technician at the hospital in town here." Micah wasn't sure why she was revealing such personal information to a total stranger. But for whatever reason, she felt at peace around him. Even if she was busy literally cleaning blood off of his hands.

"And what town is that?" Castiel was conscious of his tone, understanding it was probably strange to not know what town, let alone what state, you were in. He hoped he hadn't ended up too far from where Dean and Sam were.

"Hartford…Connecticut", she clarified when noticing the forlorn expression form on the man's face. "Can you tell me what happened to you out there?", she asked while continuing to mend Castiel's hands.

"Something I only have myself to blame for occurring. I made a mistake, again. And I hurt a lot of people…again." He couldn't help but look down at his feet in shame. He wanted to continue explaining, but found himself unable as a lump swelled up in the back of his throat. He was finding this whole 'being human' thing rather frustrating.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Jimmy. I know that may sound stupid, but it's true. I get that you are upset about something, but what actually happened? Why were you out in the woods dressed like that? And how did this happen", she gestured her head towards Castiel's injuries.

"I did this. I deserved far worse. I still deserve worse." He could feel Micah shift in her spot, but she didn't look away from her task. "I was…distraught." Somehow that word didn't seem big enough. But Castiel was pretty sure there was no humanly way to express how he felt or to explain the magnitude of damage he had caused.

"You did this on purpose? You spent all night in the woods on purpose?" She turned to face the man, looking into his mournful blue eyes. A sickening realization washed over her. "You were trying to kill yourself."…It wasn't a question.

"That thought had occurred to me. But I seem to have failed at that as well", he admitted. He sat quietly while Micah just stared at him. Since he was not nearly as experienced sharing long gazes with her as he was with Dean, Castiel found it difficult to read her face.

"You shouldn't say that. Why would you think that? There isn't anything that you could have done that you can't be forgiven for." She had no way of knowing, but somehow she could just tell that this man was a good person. She couldn't fathom what he could have done that would make him think he deserved to die of exposure alone in the woods. "Maybe we should take you to the hospital to get checked out. You could have hypothermia and…", she was cut off before she could finish her thought.

"No hospitals. I'll be fine. I need to get to Kansas." Castiel was sure that Dean would be irate with him, but he knew he didn't have a better way of finding out what was going on with the angels after their fall. He just hoped that he would find both the brothers alive and well…and not too angry to at least talk to him.

"Kansas? Kansas but not the hospital. That's a little random", she said, a bit taken aback by the abrupt change in topic. "Is that where your home is?" She reached into the first aid kit to pull out a couple of finger splints and medical tape, glad the subject had been changed from attempted suicide.

"I don't have a home. Not anymore." Castiel looked down at his feet again. She could hear heartbreak in his voice.

"Then what's in Kansas? Because that's a long way to go, so it must be important", Micah commented while tenderly wrapping the medical tape around the splints that were holding the man's left pinky and ring finger in place.

"It is important, but I doubt I'll be welcomed." He couldn't keep the pain he felt from creeping up into his voice. He was using what little emotional strength he had left to keep the image of a disappointed Dean he knew was waiting for him from entering his mind.

"Some of the people you hurt, are they there?", she asked while putting the finishing touches on her work.

"The ones that are least likely to want me dead, yes. Though that's not saying much." Castiel could see a different type of concern appearing on the young woman's face. He didn't want to frighten her away. She was kind, and at this point, was the only friend Castiel had. "I betrayed their trust, more than once, because I thought I was doing the right thing. They have every right not be upset with me."

"It's amazing, the things we'll put our loved ones through when we think it's for the best." She gave his hands one last look over, squeezed them gently, and released them back to Castiel. She turned to face him, considering her words. "You're not the first righteous person to choose the wrong course of action." Castiel averted his gaze.

"Thank you, for all your help." He gingerly looked at his patched up fingers as he stood up from the bench. "I'm sorry I have nothing to give you in return. But I am eternally grateful." He gave her one last look in the eyes and made to turn away. If he had still been an angel, he would have simply flown away in that moment. Being a human, however, was going to require a walk. A very long walk.

"I'm hungry", she said to his back, loud enough for him to hear. He paused in his movements. "There is a great diner a couple blocks from here that I had been planning on having breakfast at after my run. Would you like to come with me?" She was still concerned about the grass-stained man and hoped that he would agree. She got the feeling that not only did he not have a home like he had said, but that he also didn't have any money for food.

"I cannot accept any more generosity from you. It's too much. I do not deserve it", he said over his shoulder. A pang of hunger growing in his newly mortal stomach.

"I figured you would say that." Micah paused, getting up and walking over to stand beside the man. "I'll tell you what. I'm going to go to that diner, and I'm going to order two meals. I only plan on eating one of them and I hate leftovers. So, if you don't come, a whole plate of delicious food is going to go to waste. Now that is something that can't be forgiven." She flashed him a sympathetic smile and patted him on the shoulder before she walked over to her car and slipped into the driver's seat. She knew he had to be hungry, but she wasn't sure how easy it was going to be to get this lost, wounded puppy to eat. She was about to get back out of the car to try her luck again, when the passenger door slowly opened. The former angel eased into the seat and closed the door.

"I cannot thank you enough," he said earnestly, looking her in the eyes. He found himself feeling very lost in that moment. He just couldn't understand why he was receiving such compassion from a total stranger, when the opposite was surely waiting for him from the people knew.

"Do you want French toast or pancakes?" She asked, giving her new friend a large grin as she started the car and pulled away from the park.

Dean rolled over in his sleep, stirring slightly from the sounds coming from the kitchen down the hall. As he drifted back to consciousness, he figured that Kevin was up making breakfast. Dean thought that he should probably get up as well to check on Sam and get him some food if he wanted it. But the strong desire to stay in this warm bed that wasn't his was overpowering. He decided to be selfish for another ten minutes.

He stared up at the ceiling as the memories of the previous day came rushing to him. He replayed the horrible scene from the church in his head. The look on Sam's face when he brushed off the fact that he was going to die was swimming around in his mind. It made Dean feel sick to his stomach. He didn't understand how everything had escalated to that point for his brother. Dean knew that he wasn't one to talk about having self-worth, but Sam's total disregard for his own life in that manner was haunting.

Not wanting to think about his brother being in such emotional and physical pain anymore, Dean let his thoughts drift to the person whose bed he had slept in. But that was agonizing as well. If Cas had fallen with the rest of the angels, then he was still out there somewhere, cold and alone…and human? Dean wasn't really sure what condition the fall would have left the angels. Naomi had said something about them being kicked to the curb the same way Lucifer had been cast out. Did that mean they would still have their powers? And if they knew that Cas had been involved, would they be out gunning for him?

I guess none of that matters if he's dead, Dean thought. A whole new level of misery came over him. Thoughts of the way he had spoken to Cas the last few times he saw him made Dean's stomach churn again. If Metatron or Naomi had killed Cas, then he died thinking that Dean was alright with that. Cas had done a lot of terrible things and betrayed his trust in pretty major ways, but Dean didn't want him dead. He didn't even want him gone, locked up in Heaven. But if that's what Cas felt he needed to do to make up for all the damage he had caused, then Dean had to respect that. But that's not what had happened. The angels had fallen. If he still had his powers, he would've made it back here by now. The only conclusion left to come to was that he was gone, forever this time.

Dean cursed to himself and rolled over onto his side. He reached out his arms and buried his face in his lost friend's pillow. He wanted to continue to lay there, but he knew there were too many things he needed to take care of. Sam was first on that list. But he also needed to figure out what he was going to do with Crowley. Dean didn't want Kevin to leave. He was barely holding it together now. If another person he cared about left, he wasn't sure he would be able to handle it all. Then Dean's thoughts shifted to the few people still on this earth that he did care about; Charlie and Garth. He decided that he would call them once he checked on Sam. Maybe they had information on the angels from wherever they were. All Dean knew for sure was that he wanted them there, to know that they were safe.

He had to get up now. Reluctantly, Dean made his was down the hall to his brother's room. He was afraid of what he might see when he opened the door, but he knew he had to. "He's fine. I just checked on him a half hour ago." Dean turned to see Kevin standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen. He had a towel over his shoulder and a plate of eggs and potatoes in his hand. "I made him some food. You should get him to eat it," Kevin said, handing Dean the plate. He turned to make his way back to the kitchen. "There'll be some for you on the stove when you're ready."

"Thanks, Kevin." Dean felt a little taken aback. He wasn't sure what had changed between last night and this morning, but while agitated, Kevin seemed like he had accepted their current situation. Dean opened the door and suddenly understood why. Sam looked like death warmed over. He was as pale as the sheets on his bed and looked like he had been out in the rain, but it was from sweat. Dean slowly walked over to the chair he had left by the side of the bed. He was shocked to find steady breaths coming from his brother. He sat the plate of food on the desk a little louder than he had intended, causing Sam to open his sunken eyes.

"Dean?", Sam rasped, turning to look at him.

"Hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." Dean was trying to keep his emotions in check. "Kevin made you some breakfast. It actually looks pretty good. You should eat…if you can," Dean said, trying to look anywhere but his brother's face.

"I'm okay. I feel better than I look. Though that's probably not saying much." Sam could tell by his brother's face and averted gaze that he must look pretty terrible. "So what happened last night? The last thing I remember was the angels falling out of the sky." Sam tried to change the subject.

Dean managed to look at his bother now. He had his classic puppy dog look about his face. He couldn't help but notice how small Sam appeared. His little brother really lived up to his title in that moment. "The uh…the angels fell. What more is there to say?" Dean's voice broke. His stance was beginning to crumble. "Naomi was right. Metatron lied. Cas is….he's gone." He couldn't continue. The sight of his brother and the thought of saying these things out loud were too much.

Sam didn't know what to say. His head was pounding and he felt like his skin was on fire, but he could see in Dean's eyes that he was in as much pain. Sam sat up against the head board as best he could, trying to think of something comforting. "He's been gone before. Maybe he'll…"

"No", Dean interrupted sternly. "There's no coming back this time." He didn't want to have this conversation. He didn't want to think about how he could let his friend get killed again. Dean picked up the plate of food and sat it on the bed next to Sam. "Eat. I need you to get your strength back." His voice was shaking. He put a hand over his mouth as he stood up and walked to the door. "I can't lose you too", he said without turning around. Sam sighed as he watched his brother leave.

In the kitchen, Kevin was busy cleaning up his mess from making breakfast. He could tell by the look on Dean's face that he was upset as soon as he entered the room. "Is Sam still okay?"

"Well he looks like hell, but he's coherent. I guess that's progress." Dean looked at the counter where the prophet had left him a plate of food. "I'm glad you're still here. I'm going to figure out what to do with…with Crowley. I just need to make some calls and I'll…"

"It's okay, Dean", Kevin said, not looking up from the sink where he was doing dishes. "I know you have a lot to deal with." He turned to face the hunter, drying off a frying pan. "I still want him gone, but I'll help you out as best I can. It's not like I have anywhere else to go", he said, an ironic grin peaking at the corner of his mouth.

"I appreciate that." He was truly grateful. "I'll figure something out." There was a look of desperation on his face that chilled Kevin slightly. Dean then felt something in the pocket of his jeans buzz. He remembered the cell phone notifications that he had ignored the night before. He pulled the phone from his pocket and saw that he had twelve missed calls. He made a gesture towards Kevin that told him he was going to take care of some business as he turned to go into the library. Dean got the feeling that today wasn't going to be any less stressful.

AN: Sorry it took me so long to finish this chapter. I had a couple days of writers block, but now I think I have the whole story arch figured out. I'm actually kind of excited about how this will play out. Let me know what you guys think! I really hope that I am being character accurate. That's very important to me.