Well, here you go. Part 2. Hope you enjoy it.

Sam was running, stumbling over his own feet, across the park before he even knew that he had stood up. There was no way that thing had known, no way he'd been discovered, no way.

He slid into the Impala and locked the doors, panting hard. He would go back to Ruby, would ask her about what the angel had said, would tell her they'd been discovered. He would call it off.

He couldn't dream of that. Somehow, Ruby was the only one who made sense anymore. She was the one constant thing in his life. She was-

"It was back here."

Sam jumped and spun in the seat to see the angel sitting in the backseat of the car, still staring at him. He had a very distinct feeling that he didn't want to know what the creature was talking about.

"Get out."

"I like the smell of leather."

"I'll go back," Sam offered.

"To Ruby, or to Dean?"

"Dean. I'll go back to Dean."

The angel narrowed his eyes. "You are afraid that he's changed?"

"What?" He tried not to let the shock of apparently having his mind read show on his face. He'd been thinking exactly that, ever since Dean had come back.

"You should know, Sam," Castiel said, his voice and eyes softening as he leaned forward in the seat, "that he's the same person he always was. We made sure of that."

"What do you mean?" Sam, asked, turning farther around to get a better look at the creature in the car with him.

The angel actually looked embarrassed. "You can't tell your brother. He might not understand."

"Understand what?"

"The things that happened between us originally were… I didn't lie to him. I told him they had ordained. It was God's Will."

"You were testing him," Sam said, fitting the pieces together in his mind. "You weren't doing it for him, you were doing it to test him."

Castiel nodded. "Hell is… well, Hell is like Hell. It strips away humanity, leaves an empty shell of the former self. We needed to see how broken Dean truly was, to see if he would take the bait. Then we had to fix him."

"By loving him."

"By giving him something for his troubles. Giving him me."

Sam nodded. "It really was God's Will, then."

"Only until he realized that he could be loved. I had orders. I had to see if Dean was still Dean. I had to find out if he would still put all others before himself. I asked for my freedom after you talked to him, Sam, and he granted it."

"So he's still him?" He knew he should have been mad, should have yelled and screamed and called his brother. After all, Dean had been tricked, had been used, had been taken advantage of. But he was still Dean. Wasn't that what really mattered?

"Yes. He's still the man you remember."

"Then why are you still here?"

Castiel seemed to steel himself, square his shoulders, clench his jaw. It was another technique that Dean used often, something that looked foreign and wrong on the shorter man. "I fell in love."

Sam blinked. "You really think-"

"I know. I'm in love with your brother. He shines, Sam, like nothing I've ever encountered on this plane. His soul screams at me, his eyes plead. He needs love. He needs someone honest and true and right and good. He believes that with all of his heart, and he can't see that he is the same. He can't see how truly amazing he is."

"And that's why you love him?"

"He doesn't know his own worth. I want to show it to him. And he makes me feel… I don't know. Safe. He exudes a sense of safety. Have you felt it?"

Sam had. He just wasn't ready to admit it to this being. "So, what, God's just gonna let you have a cute little gay affair with my brother, fix him up all nice and dandy, and then leave his ass when the Apocalypse is over?"

The angel narrowed his eyes, and Sam was suddenly scared. For just a moment, he'd forgotten exactly what he'd been talking to. Then the angel smiled, bright and beaming. "You truly are Dean's brother." The smile dropped off his face. "No. God is not going to permit this."

He thought he understood immediately, but wished and hoped and prayed that he was wrong, because he couldn't watch Dean get hurt again. Not again. Not by something that was supposed to be good. "What do you mean?"

"You know. My orders were to test your brother, to see if he could be fixed, to fix him, and then to ask for release. I was never really under his control, Sam. I was just told to follow his orders. There's a difference. But when he set me free, I made a choice. We are allowed some free will, you know. I chose him."

"You Fell." Like Sam's heart in his chest, far and fast and hard. Like his stomach, dropping out from beneath him.

"It isn't as bad as they say."

"You Fell from Grace," Sam said, looking at the creature in backseat in a new light. "For Dean."

"I fell in love."

"You're no better than a demon."

The blue eyes softened, hurt, and tore from his. "There is a difference between-"

"Then what was Azazel? What's Lucifer? Weren't they angels once?"

The former angel sighed, meeting his eyes again. "Please. You can't tell Dean."

Sam spun around and jammed the keys into the ignition and turned them hard. "Like Hell," he muttered. When he looked up into the rearview mirror, Castiel was gone.

-.-

Sam wasn't surprised to find that the fallen angel had arrived at the motel first and was sitting at the small table in the corner, hands folded in front of him as if in prayer. It was the lack of his brother that shocked him. "Where is he?"

Castiel looked up at him with those eyes, wide and sad and forgiving. "He's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?" Sam demanded. "What did you do to him?"

The demon sighed. "I did nothing. I came back, hoping to head you off, and he was gone. He left this, though." He pushed a torn piece of notebook paper across the table toward Sam, who took it.

There was one line of text scrawled across it in his brother's hand: Gen 42:15-16.

That didn't make sense. It couldn't have been written by Dean, not if it was what Sam thought it was. "What's it mean?"

"He did what I told him," Castiel said simply, a small smile playing across his face.

Sam pursed his lips and dropped the note back onto the table. He crossed to the bedside table and pulled the drawer open. He grabbed the Bible from its traditional place and began flipping through the pages, looking for the passage Dean had indicated. Apparently, though, he didn't need to.

"'And this is how you will be tested: As surely as Pharaoh lives, you will not leave this place unless your youngest brother comes here. Send one of your number to get your brother; the rest of you will be kept in prison, so that your words may be tested to see if you are telling the truth. If you are not, then as surely as Pharaoh lives, you are spies.'"

Sam turned at the sound of the angel's voice. "But what does it mean?"

Castiel shrugged, his body sagging, something akin to sadness flashing behind his eyes. "I don't know."

"Thought you were supposed to know these things."

"I know the verse, Sam. Not the way your brother wished it to be interpreted. I'm just as clueless as you are right now."

Sam sighed and dropped the Bible back into the drawer. "What do you suggest we do?"

"You're asking me for help? Five seconds ago, I was the enemy." He stood, smoothing the wrinkles out of Dean's old shirt. "I suggest we split up and look for him. You had the car, so he couldn't have gotten too far. I doubt he'd have stolen anything that was out in the lot." He smirked, again so briefly that Sam might have imagined it. "Where do you think he would go?"

"Bar," Sam said without hesitation. "There's one on Fourth and another on Main."

Cass nodded. "I'll check the one on Main Street. We'll meet up back here in an hour and a half, all right?"

As much as he hated the idea of working with something that was no better than what he hunted, he knew Castiel had a point. It was the fastest way to find Dean, and there were no better options. "Yeah. All right." Against his better judgement, he turned his back on the angel.

-.-

He stood on Seventh Street, neck craned, looking up at the imposing brick building with the small cross mounted on top. Dean wasn't in a bar, wasn't on Main or Fourth. He was in the church, waiting to be found. He could feel it with every fiber of his being.

He wanted to go to him, to console him, to assure him that he'd gotten the message, that he was still the same… being that he had been since the beginning. Nothing had changed. The warmth that they'd both felt in that first encounter still lingered, and that was what mattered.

Gulping back his fear and uncertainty at what might happen to him, Castiel reached out a tentative hand toward the front door of the church. His fingers brushed against the brass handle and he tensed, waiting for the inevitable lightning strike. Nothing happened.

He wrapped his fingers tightly around the handle and pulled, flinching this time. Again, nothing happened. He walked through the doorway, one step at a time. He didn't fall dead. He would have said a silent prayer of thanks, but figured that would be frowned upon more than walking into the holy place. He hadn't gone that far just to be struck down by an old habit that died hard.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of Dean's old jeans, Castiel walked farther into the church, boots clunking across the stone floor of the entryway and undoubtedly announcing his presence.

He opened another set of doors and found himself in the chapel, staring at two rows of large pews. There was only one other person present in the church, and he'd been right about that man's identity.

He walked down the aisle and slid into the pew beside his charge. "Hello, Dean."

"How'd you get in here?" Dean asked, hands folded in front of him, head bent low.

Castiel sighed, trying to hide the fear that had been bubbling underneath his usually calm exterior since he'd found the note in the motel room. "How long have you known?"

Dean smirked. "Knew you'd figure it out."

"How long?"

"Does it matter?"

He swallowed hard, unable to keep the slight waiver out of his voice. "Are you going to leave now?"

The hunter's head finally popped up, eyes wide. "What? Why would you ask me that?"

"You know what I am. You know what Azazel and Lucifer were, what they are now-"

"But you're not them," Dean said, settling back in the pew, stretching an arm around behind Castiel's back, the softest touch exciting nerves the angel hadn't even known he'd had before meeting the man. "And I trust you."

"Then why leave the verse?"

"No more secrets, Cass. I've had enough of 'em in my life to know they're no good. So, honesty from now on, ok? No matter what you are, no matter what you've done."

He nodded, relieved. He had been left with nothing but a few merciful friends in high places that were willing to give him scraps of information to feed the brothers and keep suspicion low in exchange for errands. And they weren't even a sure thing. There was only Dean, only a few nights a week of pure mortal bliss and the chance to fix a person who had thought himself beyond repair.

"No matter what," he said, putting as much conviction into the words as possible. No more secrets, no more lies, no more half-truths. Just the two of them, neither to be alone again.

They sat in silence, watching as the patterns thrown buy the stained glass shifted as clouds drifted over the sun. Dean tightened his grip, pulling his lover closer, and Cass leaned into the touch. It was peaceful in old church.

"So," Dean muttered, breaking the silence. "Pretty smart, huh?"

"What?"

"The note. You got it, right?"

Castiel smiled. "Yes, Dean. I got it. You're very intelligent."

"Can't hear that enough." He leaned back, sliding his feet under the pew in front of them. "So, it was a test at first, right? I mean, I thought afterwards it might have been, but…"

"It was a test, and you passed. I failed. Nice hint, by the way, at both of those. I especially like the part where you compared me to a spy. And bonus points for tying your brother into it."

Dean flinched. "He's not too mad, is he?"

"He'll learn to deal with it."

A pause. More colors- reds and yellows and blues- flickering across the floor, bathing the chapel in an ethereal light show. "You didn't fail, Cass." A tightening of the arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Warm breath whispering through his hair, sending chills of pleasure down his spine. "You passed."

Castiel's eyes slid shut. Dean had told him before of the warmth that he felt when they were together, the sense of belonging, the happiness that rose from within. The truth was, Cass had felt the same thing from the time he had first touched Dean, had felt it multiplied when they had kissed. It had scared him, disgusted him. It was forbidden, a sin. It was a failure.

Except that it wasn't. Dean was right. It should have felt wrong, but it didn't. It hadn't felt like a failure when they'd laid together in the backseat of the car, or when they'd sat on that swing. It had felt right when he'd been pinned to the wall, surrounded by Dean, by warmth and happiness and longing and love. It had felt right, so it couldn't be wrong.

"Are we cuddling in a church?" he asked. His world may have been flipped on its head in recent months, his sense of right and wrong changed significantly, but he still knew the basics.

"We're not cuddling," Dean corrected, mouth at his ear. "I'm this close to manhandling."

Castiel pulled away, out of Dean's grip. "Not in a church."

"Well, Sammy might find us in the room, and we've already toured the car…"

"You're horrible." He stood up, straightening his shirt and glaring back at Dean. "We should leave before we get struck by lightning."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "They still do that?"

"More often than you might think." Cass held out his hand. "Come on."

He hunter smiled and took the proffered hand, using it to pull himself up off the pew. He didn't let go. Neither did Cass. They set off for the door together, shoulders close, fingers intertwined, both stupidly warm and happy.

That was when the priest appeared.

He was standing in the doorway, blocking their exit, watching them both with mild amusement. Dean dropped his hand and backed away first, not as ruffled by getting caught as his companion.

"Hey, Padre," he said, flashing a smile at the priest. He cleared his throat. "Can we, uh…?"

The priest turned his gaze to Castiel and smiled. "You're wrong," he said.

Cass took a small step back. "I'm sorry?"

The priest shook his head. "Not in the way you think. I would never judge something as pure as love, brother." Something flashed across the man's eyes, and it was as if a veil had been lifted. He was instantly recognizable to the angel.

"Michael."

The priest smiled at the renewed fear coursing through his system. He had done something horrific if they had sent Michael after him, something that required the most extreme form of punishment, an eternity in Hell.

"Be not afraid."

Dean snorted. "Easy for you to say." So he had seen it, too.

"You must be Dean," Michael said, his voice tinged with amusement. "Funny, I imagined you to be taller."

"What do you want?" the hunter demanded, and Castiel flinched. If they hadn't been headed straight to Hell before, they certainly were now.

"To clear the air and straighten out the facts," the archangel explained calmly. "You are wrong, not in your actions, but in your beliefs."

"What do you mean?" Cass asked. He was too frightened by the appearance of the angel to hope, to expect mercy, to do much more than hover protectively closer to Dean, eventually coming to stand between his former brother and his human lover.

Michael sighed. "Relax, Castiel. I mean you no harm. I'm just acting as a messenger today."

"And what message are you delivering?"

The smile came back. "One of your salvation."

He could feel Dean slink back behind him, could feel a jolt of pain he knew wasn't his own, a fear he'd become quite accustomed to in the past two months. "I'm not going back."

Michael's smile faltered. "You don't understand me, brother. But I am surprised. You would give up the glory of Heaven for the sins of the flesh?"

"Love is not a sin."

"Sodomy is."

Castiel reached behind his back and took Dean's hand in his own. "I've made my choice. I'm staying."

The smile was back in full force, shining with superiority. "I knew you wouldn't understand."

"I told you-"

"You have no idea what has truly happened to you," Michael said.

"I Fell."

"In love, yes. But not from Grace."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I mean, he has doubted our Father for some time, has worried over orders, and questioned things that should not have been questioned. For this, he was punished."

"But he didn't Fall?"

"No. he was given a job that no one else would have taken. He was sent into Hell."

Dean peeked around Castiel's shoulder, his eyes wide. "No one wanted to get me out?"

"I was commanded to," Cass replied, "I didn't know."

"After that," Michael continued, "he was watched. Closely. You both were." He turned to Dean. "You were tested, and we realized that we could save him."

"Save him from what?" Dean asked.

"The inevitable. It always starts with questions and doubts. It leads to denial. To pride and blasphemy and darkness. We found a way to fix it."

Castiel nodded, finally understanding what was being said. "The second test wasn't a test at all, was it? It was the real thing. I was given to him."

"We knew he would do the right thing, and so would you." Michael gazed at them both for a moment, his eyes softening. "It was Ordained."

In a blink, he was gone.

"What's that mean?" Dean asked. "We're off the hook?"

"We were never on it," Cass said. "Or, at least, I wasn't." His only reply was a confused stare. "It's better you not know." He started out of the church, pulling Dean along into the light of the rising sun.

"Yeah, but… we're cool? With the Big Guy?"

"Did you really expect Him to not know that this would happen?"

Dean stopped on the steps in front of the building and stared at him. "You're still an angel?"

"Technically, no."

"What are you?"

"In love."

"Dude." He wrenched his hand away. "No. Don't even. That's too sappy. Just explain to me how this is all right and we're not in Hell."

Castiel shrugged, smiling as he turned his face to the light of the sun. "Father knows best?"

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed the other man by the arms, whirling him around until they were facing. "Come here." Cass let him take control. Technically, they weren't in a church, so it was fine, right? Right.

One hand found its way to the small of his back, the other staying put on his arm, keeping him firmly in place as lips met and warmth spread and everything was right. Sam might have been out drowning his sorrows in a bottle on Fourth Street, and it was possible that Ruby was waiting to pick up the pieces of the psychic once he shattered, but none of that mattered. What mattered was Dean and the things he was doing with his tongue. Everything else could wait.

The End. No. Really. I mean it this time. Seriously, you guys, I do :)

Thanks for reading and reviewing!