Chapter 2

The ride to the hospital had taken them almost a week. Meg had called them the second Castiel had awoken, but they had been on the opposite end of the country, and ran in to some trouble on the way. Dean had been wired the entire ride after he had called Meg again and demanded to talk to Cas. When he left him in the psych ward, convincing himself it was for his own good, whatever was going on inside his head had crippled him, prevented him from saying or doing anything except screaming until he finally passed out. Hearing him talk was relieving, but everything he said made Dean want to shoot something. His mind was so far down the rabbit hole he had barely even recognized him. And, just like everything that happened to the angel, he found a way to blame himself for it.

"We race all the way here and now, I don't know, I can't say I'm fired up to see what's left of the guy," Dean huffed as they made their way through the hospital. First Sam as a resident here and now Cas, Dean hated this place. It sent chills up his spine.

"You think he remembers at all?" Sam asked.

Dean breathed. "That and I'm guessing whatever hell-baggage he lifted off of your plate. It's not gonna be pretty. I mean you should have heard him on the phone. He may have been talking but he wasn't saying anything sensible. Him taking on your cage-match scars, I'm guessing that broke his bank."

"I just hope we can help him," Sam sighed, a tang of guilt tightening his throat as he spoke.

"Hell, I hope he's got enough sanity left to help us," Dean said.

"Hey, excuse me fellas, but it's way past visiting hours," a young attending nurse stopped them. Sam recognized him from his stay. He saw Meg come around the corner before she announced herself.

"It's okay, Abel," she called him off, arms crossed and weight balanced on her left leg. Sam couldn't remember how long he had stayed in this eerie building, everything had been off; he hadn't even bothered to learn the man's name. "I've been expecting them." She eyed them both with a sense of importance. "Hello boys." Cocking her eyebrows, she nodded towards the stairwell and led them up to Castiel's room. The same room Sam had stayed in.

They both attempted to hide their nerves as they approached the familiar door. Dean had his tensed, serious look that Sam recognized as him bracing himself for something painful. He chose to bury his emotions under a hunter's intensity, something that fooled everyone but his brother. Sam was more outwardly uncomfortable, the pallid white of the walls bringing back haunting memories of unbearable insomnia, physical agony, and Lucifer, peeling away the layers of his mind until all it was raw and throbbing behind his lost, sunken eyes.

Castiel stood by his window, watching the moon like he did every night now. He had felt the Winchesters' presence since they had entered the town, smelled that familiar scent of gunpowder and musky deodorant since they pushed through the hospital doors. Their heart rates were elevated, each for a different reason. He wondered how many questions Dean would ask him about his sudden return to sanity and how quickly. Their talk on the phone, he recalled, was likely less than relieving for the elder Winchester. Dean called his name impatiently, and he picked up on the note of worry he was trying to hide. Not sure how this meeting would go, he turned around to face them for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

"Hello Dean," he greeted in his usual manner, holding eye contact and smiling fractionally. Dean held his gaze, and Castiel could see how many thoughts and emotions were rushing around in his head, threatening to shatter his composure. He elevated the temperature in the room to a more comfortable seventy-five degrees; the cost of oil had the hospital reserving it for daytime A/C use only, and the night was particularly chilly for the summer. He turned his gaze to Sam, but kept his body facing Dean. "Sam."

"Hey Castiel," Sam greeted warmly, genuinely pleased to see him doing so well, knowing all too well the other option for his condition.

"Well, look at you, walkin' and talkin," Dean chirped, always the one to lighten the mood. It was a defense mechanism, especially in precarious situations like this. It brought a smile to Castiel's face. Dean smiled back reservedly. "That's great, right?"

"Yes, it is," Cas looked fleetingly to Meg, never entirely sure of what to say. She was leaning against the door frame, watching in idle fascination as they reunited. He locked eyes with the older of the brothers again.

"How you feelin'? I mean," Dean fumbled over his words, trying to get it to sound right the first time, "you were in pretty bad shape. Everything settled?"

"Yes, all of that has passed," Cas assured him.

"Passed?" Sam shifted his weight. "Cas, what do you remember, exactly?"

"Everything," Cas recapped all of his actions from the past two years, from working with Crowley to attempting to become God to releasing the Leviathans and taking on Sam's burden, all with detached resolve. Lucifer had helped him accept his mistakes. Now he was focusing on correcting them instead of continuing to allow them to cripple him.

"Okay just hang on, Cas, let us catch up to you for a second," Dean crossed the room to sit on the bed, stunned at how clearly Cas had just spoken.

Sam pulled up the chair from the desk and sat in it backwards, eyes fixed on the angel. "So, you're saying you remember who you are – what you are – and you're... okay? After taking on all of my crap?"

"Yes," Castiel looked to Dean, most concerned about his reaction. Dean was frozen, processing all of his thoughts, and likely going over Castiel's words from their phone call while they drove to come see him. Dean finally shook his head.

"Your head was gone, man," his tone was almost harsh, "when we talked on the phone you weren't 'okay,' you were going on about bees and cats' junk and something about a pinging sound waking you up. You were so out in left field I'm pretty sure you were in the stands."

"Well I wasn't in any field, I assure you, but a chime-like sound did awaken me," Cas kept his voice level, "and from your pause after I told you that I'm guessing something happened that night."

Sam reached behind him and grabbed his duffel bag off the desk, holding it out to Castiel. "That's when we opened this," he explained.

Cas's eyes lit up. "Yes, that would do it," he lifted the stone tablet gingerly from the bag, "every angel would have heard this being freed." He smiled down at the stone. "If someone was going to free the Word from the vault of the Earth, it would end up being you two."

"The Word?" Sam asked, "Is that what's written on there?"

"Yes. This is the handwriting of Metatron," he noted idly.

"Metatron?" sam echoed mockingly, "you're saying a Transformer wrote that?"

"That's Megatron," Dean mumbled in correction.

"What?" Sam looked at him accusingly.

"The transformer," Dean repeated, "it's Megatron.

Sam stopped. "…What?"

"Me-ta-tron," Castiel clarified, "he's an angel, he's the Scribe of God; he took down dictation when creation was being formed.

"Uh," Sam tried to push Dean's knowledge in to the back of his mind for later mocking purposes, "well, what's it say then?"

"I don't know, I can't read it," Castiel admitted, "It wasn't meant for angels."

"Okay, this sounds bad," Meg piped up from behind them, "what are you two jackasses doing with the Word of God?" She crossed the room. "Let me see that thing."

Dean stepped in front of her. "Back off, Meg."

"C'mon, it's my ass too," she argued.

"Back. Off," he said again.

"Dammit, enough of this 'demons are second-class citizens, crap," she shouted.

"Can we focus?" Castiel brought them back, and handed the tablet to Meg in a peace offering. "The Word wasn't meant for angels, and Metatron has been dead for eons, but there are still those who can read it. The prophets. If this has awoken, a prophet will be called to the desert to learn the Word of God."

"A prophet? So Chuck can read this?" Sam asked, pointing to the stone being examined by Meg.

"Yes, as long as you get to him before the angels. If they find him and you they will confiscate them both and send Chuck to the desert, where he will remain until the Word is learned."

"Alright, well, guess we better get a move on," Dean clapped his hands together. "You good to give us a lift?"

A familiar chill ran up the length of Castiel's spine. "It's late," he noted, "You two look tired from your trip. Why don't you get some rest and I will take you to him in the morning." Dean eyed him skeptically. "Isn't that one of those human things you always insist on being allotted?" He asked innocently in response to Dean's narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, sounds good. I spotted a motel not too far from here. Come get us in the morning," Dean's tone sounded nonchalant, but his eyes had remained fixed on the angel's, voice heavy with cynicism. Castiel only nodded, and followed them with his eyes as Meg walked out with them.

He turned his gaze to the moon again, trying to ignore the chill that just ran up his spine again. He knew what it meant. He knew who was trying to get in contact with him. He wouldn't budge. Whatever influence his brother had had on him before, he would not allow it to happen again. Lucifer had helped him, and he was grateful, but he was still weary of the devil's intentions.

"Castiel," the Morningstar beckoned. So he expected him to come on his own accord? That would not happen. Besides, it wasn't as if he knew where to find him. No, he watched the moon as he had for many nights now, letting himself be lost in its luminescent beauty.

He followed the sound of Lucifer's voice before he even processed his flight.

[xxx]

"Your wonderment at the moon is no surprise," Lucifer mused conversationally when Castiel appeared next to him. Castiel's head snapped to his right to stare at his brother, whose gaze was fixed on the orb in the sky. "Ever wonder why you've felt so drawn to it since you woke up?"

Castiel remained silent, just returned his gaze to the full moon overhead. Lucifer let the silence between them hang for a moment more before he looked down to his brother's eyes, wandering the surface of the sphere. "It reminds you of me."

Castiel scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

"I'm not," the devil smirked in spite of himself, "you're attracted to how bright it is, shining so intensely and standing out from the stars around it. It feels so cold, but it's a good kind of cold, not one you're uncomfortable with." Castiel met his gaze. "Sound familiar?"

The younger angel said nothing, just searched his brother's eyes for a bit. "What do you want?" He asked finally.

"Just to talk," Lucifer started circling his brother, much as he had during their first encounter two years ago. It drew Castiel's attention to their location: a small clearing in the woods somewhere in the state of Washington. "Our last conversation went so well, I thought maybe we could pick up where we left off, try and build on it. It's been so long since I've had a brother."

"You lost that right when you rebelled," Castiel growled.

"Then that means you have too," Lucifer pointed out calmly, "if we've both got no one, we may as well have no one together."

"I have the Winchesters," Castiel snapped with pride, "You have your demons."

Lucifer leaned in closer, not breaking the rhythm of his strides, "Demons are foul. I can't stand the lot of them. And the Winchesters, their species aside, are temporary. Human lives are so fleeting, Castiel; they're gone with the blink of an eye. And with the Winchesters' lifestyles, they could be gone tomorrow."

"And then back again in two days," Cas interjected with a bit of a smile.

Lucifer couldn't help but laugh. "That's very true. Death can't seem to keep a solid hold on those two. Though last time we chatted he found them entertaining enough to let it slide. If Death wants to keep someone, not even God can resurrect them. I think he finds their lives amusing."

Cas just narrowed his eyes, trying to read his brother through the small talk. "How did you reclaim your old vessel?" he questioned. "You didn't just kill him, you ended him. How can you have that body back?"

"Like you said, I ended him," Lucifer answered, "this body is just an empty shell now, ready to be inhabited by anyone who picks it up. It's not perfect, I still have to be careful, but I made it stronger, able to hold me better. I assumed trying to get back in to Sam Winchester would be a waste of time, and not the best way to try and talk to you."

"You didn't have to snuff him out like that," Castiel hissed. "He was an angel's vessel. Even someone subjected to you is promised entry in to Heaven."

Lucifer stopped. "Heaven was a mess, even before your smiting parade. All that human wanted was to see his wife and daughter again. Do you know what happened to them, Castiel? God's 'plan' was to have them murdered in their sleep. They were in Heaven. He wouldn't see them there. Not really. I was in his head for a long time. He was suicidal. And after I reminded him that it was God who did that to them, he wanted nothing to do with Heaven. So I gave him what he wanted. I made sure he didn't go to God's corrupt kingdom."

He hadn't intended to hurt Castiel with his words. But he had visibly shied at his rather insensitive mention of his slaughter up in Heaven. Maybe everything else was passed him, but it was in their nature to mourn the loss of a brother or sister. Not only had thousands been murdered in Heaven at once, but it was by Castiel's hand. He would likely never recover from that.

Lucifer sighed. "Maybe it wasn't the best thing I've ever done. But we all make poor decisions." Castiel tensed. "Why are you still fighting me, brother?"

"Words are your predominate weapon of choice," Castiel pointed out, "and you haven't stopped talking."

"Words are also a method of communication," Lucifer reasoned, "a way of trying to connect with another being or strengthen a bond that already exists."

"We have no existing bond," Castiel sneered.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Lucifer began pacing again, a smirk spreading across his lips. "An angel doesn't let just anyone so close to his wings when they're so vulnerable." Castiel's gaze dropped. "You trust me. I'd say that's some sort of bond."

"You were manipulating me," Cas denied.

"I was helping you," Lucifer stopped in front of the younger and tilted his chin up, locking eyes with the stubborn angel. "And you're looking much better, I might add."

"And I appreciate your assistance," Castiel jerked away, "but it was unnecessary. I am capable of handling myself." Castiel began walking away.

"I don't doubt it," Lucifer said honestly, "what I do doubt is your conviction. You keep telling yourself that you no longer need your brothers, that you're okay with losing them and losing Heaven because it's worth it for the Winchesters. But I can see right through you Castiel. You miss the feeling of a shared grace."

Castiel froze in his tracks before disappearing, taking himself to the Winchesters' motel room and watching over them like he used to in secret, closing the blinds so the moonlight could not touch him. He did not want to feel its soothing essence tonight.

[xxx]

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