'squeals' This is the most attention one of my stories has ever gotten! I'm relatively new to the site, so I haven't quite been able to thank reviewers. Also, I assure you my grammar will get better. Both my sister and I do the 'your' thing often. Castiel will also get hurt in this story, so big brother Gabe to the rescue! And the other way around.

Disclaimer: Borrowing, not owning. I'll give them back…when I'm done with them.

Chapter two: Houston, We Have A Problem

Sighing heavily, Castiel, angel of Thursday and servant of the lord, looked up longingly at the stars. At heaven, a place now forbidden to him in every sense of the word. The other angels' voices, usually a constant buzz in his head, had been muted to nearly nothing. He was practically human, worthless to the Winchesters who had survived so much on so little. Yet he couldn't help them when they needed it most. Lucifer had come for Sam, but it was Gabriel, the archangel everyone thought a coward, who stepped in to save them. A piece of bitter irony, since not long ago he'd been repeatedly killing Dean, but died to save him.

Absently taking a nibble of the Hershey's Bar he'd forced Dean to buy at the nearest gas station, he closed his eyes and tried to remember a time when his big brother hadn't been smiling. Castiel, of course, couldn't. From beginning to end, Gabriel had been the most cheerful angel in heaven. But now that he tried really hard, he could recall seeing a glint of…sorrow? Defeat, even, in the messenger's eyes. Oh, how well he had hid the truth from those who cared for him. He shouldn't have.

Anna had once told him that Gabriel belonged neither to the past, present or the future. In essence, he just was. She'd said when he was just a cherub, he would stare at the stars with this faraway expression for hours and hours. He had no caretaker, but didn't seem to need or want one. Gabriel was fine with being alone, but with company, he absolutely thrived. Michael had taken him then, awed by the fledgling's seeming gift of foresight. As Castiel had learned, however, Gabriel didn't have foresight. He was a manipulator, a time traveler.

In other words, he was cursed.

Every time Gabriel left heaven to go to another time, staying away from Castiel, the fledgling he was training, for weeks at a time, it became harder and harder for him to smile. Finally, the archangel broke. He fled from heaven, leaving Anna to train him instead. How Castiel had hated him for making him wait for two thousand years to see him again. And now he was dead. The only angel in the entire legion to talk and train the young ones, left to rot in a hotel. Michael was too rough, Lucifer too strange and Raphael too busy, but Gabriel had just laughed endlessly and told the cherubs how soft-hearted their brothers were.

This, this whole thing, was because he failed as a guardian to the two people who needed him the most. Bowing his head, Castiel felt something trickle down his cheek. Lifting a finger, he wiped away what Dean called a 'tear', and watched in fascination as it slowly dripped to the ground. No matter how many times it happened, he would never truly understand how such a small thing could portray such deep feelings. Staring at the spot it had landed, Castiel could see just why humans deserved to live. Such emotions, bonds, that ran as deep as any chasm, thinning but never completely breaking. Humans could forget the wrongs done to them, and forgive, maybe even love. All these things that angels couldn't.

Or wouldn't. Not after The Fall.

Poor Gabriel. The brother everyone knew he could never hurt had ultimately forsaken him, killing him with the very blade he carried. Everything he had done, from the fall up until that time just four days, six hours, twenty two minutes and forty six…forty seven seconds ago. Not that he was counting. Dean said it was an act of anxiety, when you count the time. Castiel honestly couldn't see it. Throwing the chocolate down, he sobbed raggedly and thought about everything he could have prevented if he was just there.

If I had been there…

Then what would you have done? Faced Lucifer yourself? Gabriel would have you in a pocket dimension in a heartbeat, whispered a tiny voice in the back of his head. For once, it was his own. Frowning, he remembered a human disease. Schizophrenia, was it? Yes, that's what it's called. Schizophrenia. Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned to find a determined looking Sam walking up to where he sat on the Impala's hood. Without a sound thought, he blurted out, "Sam, do I have schizophrenia?"

Stopping, the younger Winchester blinked for a second, stunned into silence by the completely random question. He'd come to talk about what happened to Gabriel, but apparently Cas had other things on his mind. Like voices. "I'm pretty sure you're not schizo, Cas. Although it wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's happened this week." Stopping for a second, he suppressed a sigh as he remembered the damn Herpexia commercial. Swallowing, he continued. "Probably your conscience. Listen to it. It's either right or trying to make you feel guilty. If it helps, you aren't the only person that has one, so don't start telling people about the whole 'I'm mentally unstable' thing. Better yet, don't pull a Dean and bottle everything up 'till you explode. What's up with you, Cas?"

There was a few moments of silence as Castiel slowly gathered the words to speak. "Gabriel-"

Before he could even get past the first of his carefully constructed words, a great screech forced Sam to his knees. Although, what sounded to Sam like the world's worst nails-on-a-chalkboard was one of the sweetest sounds known in heaven. Listening carefully, Castiel's eyes went wide in horror when the command became clear. Bring the Winchesters to heaven immediately, soldier. That is an order! Michael's voice roared repeatedly in his mind. Now clutching his head fiercely against the commander's summons, Castiel could feel hands on his shoulders trying to pull him back. Whimpering against the call, he strained to cut himself away but couldn't. After all, Michael had more grace in his pinky toe than he did in his entire body, even bound to heaven. It was never going to be that easy, or he and many more soldiers would have left long ago.

Gritting his teeth, Castiel hissed to the brothers, "Holy oil. S-stay away!"

Sam quickly realized the problem and ran to get the angel trapping supplies. Dean, on the other hand, stayed, yelling, "What the hell are you saying?" Finally, at the look on Castiel's face, he snarled, "Fucking angels!" and broke his semi-empty beer bottle against a tree.

In mere moments, the angel of Thursday was surrounded by protective sigils of lit holy oil. Mesmerized by the blue flames surrounding him, he absently wondered if this is what Gabriel had felt like when he'd been trapped. Fidgety, with a huge helping of fear. Thoughts such as these were treacherous in their own right, never mind the archangel's powerful voice whispering words of promise to him. While the pain had dulled to nothing, Michael's command had sparked a longing in his very soul. Castiel wanted to go home, play with the cherubs and even fight, if it pleased the commander. Thoughts that were no longer welcome during his new life on earth.

A caress of power wrapped around him like a blanket, the grace of a Legion waiting for his return. They were all brothers, all equals in heaven. Blinking hard, Castiel whimpered but stood firm. Never would he bring the Winchesters to his former haven like lambs to a slaughter, no matter what his heart spoke of. Cerulean blue eyes slid shut as their owner tried and failed to banish the summons for his new brothers, human though they were. Castiel couldn't see anymore why Lucifer would want to destroy these creatures, because even though they weren't as beautiful or as graceful as the morning star they were kind and compassionate. Beautiful in their own right.

Who would want to destroy that?

Lucifer had made a mistake and now, millennia later, two humans were trapped dead-center in the ultimate showdown. Michael only wanted what was denied him, no longer caring about the ones he'd sworn an oath to protect. Anything to get at the brother he'd scorned. Millions of lives were at stake, but to his brothers it was a game to be won and nothing more. Shivering in a sudden cold wind, Castiel could feel rain washing his skin clean. Then suddenly, his eyes flew open. Hadn't Dean carried him inside? And if so, why was he getting wet? Bobby looked up and simply muttered, "Well, shit. We're screwed."

Following the man's gaze, Castiel found that they were, indeed, 'screwed'. Above the sigils, a rainstorm had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and was soaking the flame to nothing. Startled, his eyes widened as he remembered the most powerful water elemental in heaven. Gabriel. It all traced back to him, yet Castiel knew the archangel was dead. The emotions and grace had made too powerful a blast for him not to be. Dismissing the idea immediately, the now-fallen angel took in the nearly decimated wards and wailed in despair. The last of his will was gone, eaten away by the grace of the Legion.

Reaching out, Castiel touched the brothers arms and dragged them to heaven on broken wings. The last thought he had before Bobby Singer's house was just a speck was, Why didn't he do it sooner? Why didn't Michael summon me?

In Heaven

Michael was not having a good time.

It wasn't news to anybody that the eldest archangel had a horrendous temper in situations where things didn't go his way, but it went beyond that. This situation was just…ridiculous! A few hours ago, Gabriel had started running a fever. As per usual, he stayed quiet until he burned through the bed, which in of itself was unusual since he had the element of water. Michael had checked the wounds, and as soon as he saw them he'd had to sprint around looking for Raphael to explain just why it was turning black. Then, and only then, had he learned of the poison Gabriel had used on the blade. Noxious venom from a hell creature better left unknown had been running through his heart for the past few days, and he only mentions it now?

On the outside, he was absolutely fuming, but on the inside he was as frantic as Raphael with his carefully groomed wings. Gabriel was currently retching, an unfortunate side effect to having his grace ripped out then being likewise torn from the human in which he had been residing. All of this made keeping the angel comfortable an extremely daunting task. Michael was situated next to his little brother, stroking the wings he had yet to straighten. A flurry of dead feathers fell with each stroke of his hand.

Michael sighed and hugged Gabriel to his chest as the angel's stomach contents were finally gone. Grabbing a wayward bandage from a nearby shelf, he used it to gently wipe the messenger's face free of sweat and…other, unfortunate bodily fluids. Lighting it on fire, he absently set flame to the feathers that worried him even more than the poison. Still stroking the nearly grey white and gold feathers, Michael let his grace flood to Gabriel in a silent show of love. In return, the feverish forehead was buried into the crook of his neck, accompanied by an adorably moody whine. Chuckling lowly, the commander stood with his little brother and got the first good look at him that he'd had in years.

The normally glowing waist length caramel hair was a dull, muted brown. Amber eyes that used to glow with mischief were glazed with pain and fever, making the whole thing much bleaker to Michael. The laughter instantly died on his tongue when he realized just how thin his baby brother was. Gabriel hadn't used his grace while on earth, just the Pagan God Loki's natural talents. The result was a gradual buildup of power that had ultimately left him starving, after leaving the meat-suit. It didn't help much that Gabriel had stopped his aging in the form of a seventeen year old boy. Crooning softly, Michael wrapped all six wings of glowing white around the figure held in his arms. Gently, he rocked the young archangel until his breathing evened out in the calmness of sleep. Feeling a weak burst of grace, he turned towards the outskirts of heaven and smiled smugly.

So Castiel had returned.

Michael had known the order would find the fallen angel with the Winchesters, but as badly as he needed a meat-suit, he wouldn't force himself upon the human. When Gabriel became involved, on the other hand, it was a different matter entirely. Angels don't get sick, and since angels don't get sick, he and Raphael had no idea how to lower their brother's body temperature to normal. The healer had tried using his grace and the result was less than pretty, considering the fact there was demon venom infecting Gabriel's very soul, it had been a very bad idea. If they had known beforehand, they wouldn't even have tried it. The human loving angel, or more specifically, his charges, were a last resort to healing the young archangel. The young, stupid archangel, thought Michael despairingly.

The very thought of leaving Gabriel alone, even when it was safe, frightened him. Would his brother wake up in worse condition? Would he be alive at all? Taking a deep breath, he settled a hand on Gabriel's head and whispered softly in Enochian, "Call if you need me, little one. I won't be far," then went to check quickly on the Legion. Raphael could handle the angel of Thursday easily, hopefully non-violently.

Heaven's outskirts; Near Lucifer's chasm

Castiel opened his tightly shut eyes and whispered repeated apologies to the Winchesters. The brothers just stared at him in open mouth awe. Looking down, he realize Jimmy was still on earth. Castiel was in his true form, dressed in the dark, dreary clothing of a fallen angel. Wrapping his wings around himself, he stared at them with clear blue eyes that dared them to say anything about their current situation, begged them to please forgive him for not being able to resist Michael's command. It was an almost physical pain that made it nigh on impossible to detect the exact moment when their hunter found them.

"Hmm, what do we have here?," Raphael drawled sarcastically. Long black hair flowing down his back, he drew a long sword out of thin air and purred, "Been a while, hasn't it brother?" he spat the last word like it was poison, making Castiel flinch. Sam and Dean stepped closer to his side.

"Raphael. I trust you are well, after our last…encounter," Castiel stated emotionlessly and watched the archangel fume. In hindsight, it was probably one of the worst ideas he'd ever had aside from carving the banishing rune into his own chest. Infuriating one of the most powerful angels in heaven was a definite no-no in anyone's book. But since Castiel had just been forced to fly to the one place other than hell he wasn't welcome in, it didn't put him in a very good mood. Biting his lip hard, the angel of Thursday waited as his older and stronger brother charged straight at him with the very dangerous looking sword.

Castiel closed his eyes and prayed. Fervently.

Pantheon

Gabriel's eyes snapped open with an audible click! when his favorite little brother's prayers reached his tired mind. Gasping weakly, he forced himself to stand, which was much harder than it should have been. Feeling extremely dizzy, the archangel found himself hard pressed just to stay standing. "Shit, fuck, shit, shit, SHIT!" he howled as he walked slowly away from the soft bed Michael had poofed into a moan of agony, Gabriel grabbed one of the new angel blades from the wall of the Pantheon and spread his wings, choking on the pain it caused him. The hole going through his chest was leaking dull grey-silver blood as he took off from the clouds and flew as fast as he could, which was actually incredibly fast because of the panic and the oh-I-have-six-wings factor.

So it was with either incredibly bad or incredibly good timing that he made it there when Raphael was just a few feet away from impaling Castiel like a shish kabob. Meeting the blade with his own, Gabriel ignored his pain and growled a hoarse, "No."

Well. That was…okay. Could have been better, could have had more Winchesters, but REVIEW anyways! Or Castiel dies!