Chapter 3

Castiel never had to take the Winchesters to Chuck. His succeeding prophet, instead, found them. Castiel did not mention to them that only one prophet could exist at a time, and therefore Chuck must be dead. They did not need to hear that another friend had died when they had just gotten one back. So he left it out. The angels, of course, quickly found the new prophet, and thus the tablet. Dean thought quickly on his feet when they arrived and banished them, but the sigil banished Castiel as well.

"How considerate of him," Lucifer chortled sarcastically, "he gets rid of the threat but also gets rid of his greatest asset. He kind of treats you like shit, you know that?"

"It was necessary," Castiel defended his friend, "Hester and Anais are strong and on a mission. They will take the prophet to the desert by any means, even if that means killing the Winchesters. I am not angry at Dean for the collateral. I'll be back to them shortly."

"You seem to be their collateral quite often," Lucifer pointed out. "If you ask me they're using you."

"I didn't ask you," Castiel snapped coldly. Lucifer just raised his hands in peace, pushing himself away from the wall he had been leaning against.

"Alright, fine, I get it." He stood next to his younger brother, who was watching the dogs on the track the banishing sigil had landed him at. "I'm not trying to stir up anything between you and the Winchesters."

"Lying doesn't suit you, Lucifer," Castiel said, aware of the irony in the statement.

The devil laughed. "There's an interesting fact. Alright fine, maybe I'm not so fond of your relationship with the little hairless apes. But I do admire your loyalty, Castiel. It's a pretty rare quality nowadays, even in angels. No matter what they do to you, you always go back them, are always there for them, and refuse to give up on them, despite their mistakes and flaws. That's something that needs to exist in more places. Perhaps I'm just jealous."

Castiel couldn't believe the words the devil had just spoken. "…what did you just say?"

"Maybe I'm jealous of the loyalty you have for the Winchesters," Lucifer repeated shamelessly. "Maybe I miss having someone think of me as their brother." Castiel was speechless. Lucifer laughed an airy laugh. "I know, difficult to believe, isn't it? The fallen angel, the disappointment of the heavens, has feelings."

"That's not what I'm having trouble believing," Castiel disagreed, "I'm having trouble believing that the angel who loathes humanity more than anything is jealous of two of them."

"Well, who wouldn't be jealous of the beings that you hold in such high affection," Lucifer's voice had dropped to a whisper in Castiel's ear. It caused him to shudder. The Morningstar turned his attention to the sky. "You should be good to go back to them," he noted, "they're on highway 94 north of Saint Cloud, Minnesota. They just passed mile marker 79."

Castiel turned to look at his brother, who, for once, did not attempt to meet his gaze, only continued to stare at the large, fluffy clouds overhead. Australia did always have nice skies. It had been a while since either of them had been to this part of the world. Part of him wanted to stay with the older archangel. He fled the moment he had the thought.

[xxx]

The four of them worked hastily to angel-proof Rufus' cabin. Castiel felt heavy remorse as he painted the familiar windows, knowing that he was indirectly responsible for the death of the Winchesters' father figure, Bobby, who was close friends with the former owner of this cabin. He would give anything to give them back their friend. He would give everything to undo his rash actions after killing Raphael. But what was done was done, and all he could do about it now was try to redeem himself in Dean's eyes and fix what he broke. For now, that required hiding the prophet Kevin so he could read the Leviathan tablet. They were all betting on it describing a method of killing the ancient beasts.

Dean remained with the prophet down in the basement while he translated the centuries old stone, leaving him, Sam, and Meg upstairs to essentially do nothing. He sat and admired a glass deer, wondering why Rufus owned something so uncharacteristically charming. Sam sat down near him, letting out an uncomfortable sigh. Cas recognized that as a human way of saying they wanted to discuss something but were unsure of how to begin.

"You seem troubled," Cas helped him along.

"Okay, uhm," Sam angled his body to face Castiel, hands falling between his knees as he leaned forward, "right now I'm just wondering about you."

"What about me?" Cas asked, confused. He was fine now. There shouldn't have been anything to worry about.

"I think I was done for," Sam explained, "when I was… sick." He paused sharply. "…Do you see Lucifer?"

He realized he would have to word this very carefully if he did not want to alarm Sam. He was strong, like his brother, but he could also be very paranoid, and he did not want them shifting their attention from the Leviathans to the mysteriously freed devil. "I did at first," Castiel decided on. It wasn't a lie. "But that was… it was a projection of yours, sort of an aftertaste. Then for a while I more sort of saw… well, everything, and as the days dragged on it just sort of dissipated."

"Dissipated how?" Sam questioned.

Cas forced a weak smile. "It's funny, I was – I was done for, too, even before taking on your pain. It's strange to think about, but it actually sort of helped. And when it settled, when the storm calmed and the fog lifted, I stayed okay, despite all that I did, all the lives and souls lost to my mistakes. I'm okay. And I'm happy that you're okay, too."

Sam smiled, relieved. "I guess I'm just wondering how it just faded away for you."

Castiel shrugged. "I'm not human, nor was I in the cage at all. Perhaps it had nothing to fuel it and it died. Angels don't have complex psyches like humans; we border on narrow-minded, actually. I guess it just didn't have anything to keep it going when it was within me."

"Well, that's good," Sam visibly lit up now, and patted Castiel's thigh. "Listen, I know you never did anything but try to help. I realize that, Cas, and I'm grateful. We're all grateful."

Sam had no idea how much he had needed to hear that. "Even Dean?"

"Dean doesn't know how to say thanks," Sam chuckled, "but I know he knows you were just doing the best with what you had. Just like us."

"Lying doesn't suit you either, Castiel," he heard the voice of his brother in the back of his mind. How was he still managing to communicate with him like this? His insanity had been healed and he had turned his angel radio off so Hester and Anais could not find them. How was Lucifer still in his head? "How long until Dean notices something?"

Please, Lucifer, not now, he begged, just needing some time with the friends he felt indebted to.

"You're not indebted to them, Castiel, came Lucifer's voice in response to his thoughts, "Just know that. You don't serve anyone. You never served them, and you no longer serve Heaven."

Just leave me alone, Castiel growled in his mind, attempting to keep an undisturbed countenance for Sam.

"Our next chat can wait a little longer," Lucifer decided, "but I will be seeing you again. Until then, I'd like to point out that your little demon friend is no longer in the room with you."

He wasn't lying. At some point during his and Sam's conversation, Meg had slipped away. He only hoped they wouldn't regret losing track of her. Sam followed his eyes to where Meg had formerly been standing.

"Where's Meg?" He wondered aloud.

"I'm not sure," Cas said. He saw the concern on Sam's face as he got up and grabbed some chalk. "What are you doing?"

"Meg has a tendency to screw you over if it means keeping herself alive," he explained as he drew the Devil's trap in front of the door, "so if she thinks she's lost the protection of an angel I can only imagine where she'll go to better herself. You're not sick anymore, so you don't need her. She's probably off making friends with a few demons that want to kill us."

"You think she would do that?" Castiel asked.

"She's a demon, brother; I wouldn't put it past her," Lucifer commentated.

"She's a demon, I wouldn't put it past her," Sam almost seemed to echo the devil's words. He brushed the chalk dust off his hands as he stood up, completed Devil's trap waiting for Meg if she ever returned. "I'm gonna go see if Kevin's made any process translating the stone."

With Sam gone downstairs, Castiel was yet again alone with his thoughts. He could feel that chill washing over him again. "I'm not done here, Lucifer," he mumbled in to the air, "the Winchesters are still trying to evade my old garrison. I leave them alone for a minute and they could be killed." Another chill ran up his spine. He tried his own form of manipulation. "I'd never forgive you if they died while I was away." The chill stopped halfway up his spine, numbing one of his vertebrae, before dissipating. He awaited some sort of sarcastic remark from his brother, much like Dean would do after being shot down, but nothing came. He felt nothing, not even that acute presence he always seemed to feel. What he thought of Lucifer mattered to him. Interesting. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but it could be potential leverage if his brother's intentions proved bad.

Meg ended up returning, and was met with Dean's ever-cynical interrogation. She of course defended herself, and her story of only intending to get a few demons off their trail was strengthened by the demon blood on the knife she had stolen. So, with a clenched jaw, Sam let her out of the trap, but he could tell how uneasy the brothers were. He didn't blame them. But they would have bigger problems as soon as Hester followed the beacon left by Meg stabbing those demons back to the cabin.

The door of the cabin was ripped off its hinges, and Meg was expelled from the room. A flutter of wings brought Hester, Anais, and a few others from Castiel's former garrison in to the room. "You took the prophet from us?" Hester was furious. Castiel took a few steps towards her, singling himself out from the Winchesters. If she was going to attack any of them, it was going to be him. "You have fallen in every way imaginable," she sneered at him in disgust.

"Please, Castiel," Anais tried being diplomatic, "we have to follow the code. Help us do our work." He offered Anais an apologetic fleeting glance, then turned back to Hester.

"The prophet is staying with me," Castiel challenged.

Hester glared at him. "We don't need his help, or his permission." She nodded to Anais, who disappeared quickly to retrieve Kevin. "The Keeper goes to the desert tonight," she declared coldly.

"He's staying right here," Castiel's fists clenched and relaxed. "This is my mess. The Leviathan are here because of me. That tablet will tell me how to fix what I broke, how to put them back where they belong. I am doing this with the Winchesters. And I need him for that."

"Yeah," Dean backed him up, "We're actually trying to clean up one of your angel's messes. Just give us some time, okay? We will take care of your prophet."

She visibly tensed, becoming wrought with anger. "Why should we give you anything?" Her anger was fixated on Dean now; Cas fought the urge to attack. "After everything you have taken from us? The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell he was lost!" Dean was silent, and Cas could see him beating himself up in his mind. He didn't like that. She advanced Dean. "For that, you're going to pay."

His knife slid down his sleeve an in to his hand. With one quick leap, he tackled Hester to the ground, away from Dean. Her knife was in her hand in an instant as she tried to fight him off. She attempted to roll him off of her, stabbing at him, but he was stronger, and his vessel larger. He subdued her quickly, sitting on her legs so she could not kick and wrestled the blade out of her hand, pinning her wrists above her head. "There are so few of us left, sister," he pleaded, "do not make me hurt you."

She screamed at him, still fighting to get the upper hand. One of the other angels with them, Peter, jumped to her aid and knocked Castiel off. He spun to his feet, prepared to fight the both of them. Peter lunged, and he evaded him quickly; he saw no use in harming an angel that was not armed. Hester swung her fist at him, hitting his jaw, but he paid no mind to it. When she swung again, he grabbed her clenched fingers, spun the both of them to dodge Peter's next attack, and knocked her against the wall. He threw the knife he had taken from her in to Peter's leg to stop his advances, then held his own up to her throat. "Please, sister," he begged. "Enough."

"It will never end," she hissed at him, "Heaven can never be at peace now. You took everything from us. And it's all their fault. You want the prophet? You'll have to kill me."

"You call me fallen," he pressed her harder against the wall as she continued to struggle, "you call me mad. But look at yourself, Hester. You were so beautiful. Now your Grace is weakened. Look what you've become."

"Look what you made me," she spat. He felt her emerging from her vessel, a last ditch effort to get away. Her leaving the vessel would blind and kill the Winchesters, and she knew it. Pain in his eyes, he forced his blade through her chest before she could leave. Her eyes and mouth opened in shock, and she screamed in agony before falling to the floor, the release of all the energy of her Grace leaving burns on the ground where her wings had been. Sighing, he looked to his brothers, staring at her empty vessel in mourning.

"I am sorry, Peter," he apologized for his brother's injured leg, "but you must go. The prophet is in my care, and I will look out for him." He helped Peter to his feet, and Anais crossed the room to hold him up.

"I'll take him back to Heaven," Anais promised, nodding towards the others in the room. He looked at Castiel longingly. I wish you'd come with us, though. These are strange times, Cas. We could really use you."

He smiled at his brother. Anais was younger than he, and had always looked up to him. It was reliving that even after all he had done, the little one had not given up on him. "I'm not part of the garrison anymore, Anais. I'm sorry. But you'll be fine. Better off, actually."

Anais returned his older brother's smile, and as the others brought Kevin home, he disappeared with Peter, both of them looking towards the sun rising through the dirty windows. Castiel walked towards Sam and Dean, who were both looking at Kevin's translation of the tablet. Meg was gone again, but that was fine. She was likely laying low.

"Here," Sam cut in, pointing to the notebook with the pencil, "'Leviathan cannot be slain, but by a bone of a righteous mortal, washed in the three bloods of the fallen.'" The brothers exchanged looks before Sam continued to read. "Um… it says we need to start with the blood of a fallen angel." They both looked at him now. He smiled.

"Well, you know me," he held up an empty glass vile and wrapped his fingers tightly around it, "always happy to bleed for the Winchesters." When he unwrapped his fingers to hand it to Dean, it was filled with his blood.

Dean examined it and sighed. "So, this is it? We're back to hunting and bleeding together, like nothing happened?" he asked skeptically.

Castiel shrugged. "Of course something happened. And I don't want us to forget. I don't think I ever will forget. But I'd like to someday receive your forgiveness, if that's okay. And I'm gonna start by cleaning up the mess I've made." That presence was back again. No chills like the Devil was calling to him, more like his hand on his wing again, assuring him that he was there and standing with him. He was not opposed to it.

Dean's countenance held concern and questions. Of course he had questions, when did he not, but the concern puzzled Cas. Was his conviction something to be concerned about?

"I'll be off now," he pitched, "try to find that bone for you. Someone truly righteous will be difficult to find. If this is going to work, we'll need someone pure." He disappeared before Dean could find a way to get him alone to bombard him with questions.

[xxx]

Castiel did not land where he intended to. Where he was aiming for a cemetery in Louisiana, he found himself in the buttresses of a cathedral somewhere in Europe.

"Germany," came the voice of his brother, leaning against one of the massive structures, one leg crossed over the other, "Cologne Cathedral in Germany." Castiel looked to him in confusion. He chuckled and pushed off the pillar to stand next to the younger. "Like you were going to find a righteous mortal in America. Don't you remember how the country was founded? Blood and violence and genocide. Nothing pure living in that land anymore." He looked out at the city. "That was a busy century for me."

"There are plenty good souls in America," Castiel argued.

"Good? Oh yes many, I don't get all of them," Lucifer laughed lightly, "but 'good' won't cut it. You need pure. Leviathan are slippery little bastards. The Winchesters will have one shot at this. Better safe than sorry, right?"

"So you brought me to Germany?" Castiel tried joking back. "Do you remember the twentieth century?"

Lucifer tilted his head back in laughter. "Holocaust jokes are damning, Castiel, you'd better be careful. Yes, I remember the twentieth century. And the nineteenth. No country's history is free of blood. Not even Switzerland. I'm just not fond of the States. And since the Winchesters are all nice and safe again, I thought we could talk away from them."

"In the foundation of a church," Castiel commented.

"It's where these people go to feel close to God," Lucifer shrugged, "where they go to find peace and direction. I never could quite follow their justification for needing such grandiose structures to worship. I think they say it's God's will but I know for a fact our Father doesn't care either way, as long as they're devout. Still, they are gorgeous."

"They deserve credit for their ability to create," Castiel suggested.

"Their creations come at a cost," Lucifer reminded him, "for everything they create they destroy something else to make it. Houses and buildings might be impressive but is it worth the destruction of whole forests to attain them? Man might be advanced but he's not the only creature God created. He does not respect his fellow creations. How then, can he claim to love God so much, when he destroys everything he touches, including his fellow man?"

Castiel just clenched his jaw, not liking where the conversation had ended up, but also because he wasn't sure he had such a concrete response anymore. Defending humanity used to be so simple, so drilled in to his mind. He wasn't quite sure how to word his defense anymore. "Ensuring the bone we have will work that's… helpful. Why are you helping us?"

"You," Lucifer corrected, "I'm helping you, brother. I'll be honest with you, I don't really care for the Winchesters. Well, I don't care much for Dean. Sam is my vessel, my other half, so I'll always care for him. But he also rejected me and tried to manipulate me where I was always outright and honest with him so there's a little spite there too. But I'm proud of you. You're taking responsibility for your actions. And I want to help you succeed in redemption."

"Why?" Castiel was still skeptical.

"Because I couldn't," Lucifer admitted, and suddenly he stopped talking. Castiel looked up at him, and noticed his eyes held a level of pain he had never seen before. They stood like that for a few moments before Lucifer noticed his brother staring at him and cleared his thoughts with a shake of his head. "I hurt my brothers by rebelling. I hurt Michael by putting him in that situation. It was God's decision to have him beat me down, but I still blame myself. Gabriel told me that all of this was 'just a great big temper-tantrum,' as he put it. And I can see why he thought that. I told you I had made mistakes, and I did. I made the demons. I murdered some of our brothers. I dragged innocents down to Hell and tortured them because I wanted to. And I never took responsibility for that. It was God's fault, I would say, he made me like this. But I was free. He was no longer in charge of me. I did it all, and I blamed Him. Humanity's a mess, and I made it worse. And I can't take it back. Why am I helping you, brother?" He turned to look Castiel in the eye. "Because I don't want you to end up like me."

"But you wanted me to join you," Castiel pointed out.

"Join me, sure. But never become me. I could have taken care of you. I could have made the pain of falling a little more tolerable. But it didn't surprise me when you refused, so determined to do what you thought was right. The problem lies afterwards, when you've succeeded and don't know what to do next. You make a mess. And Heaven abandons you. They leave you broken and bleeding and on your own when they never taught you anything. That makes them kind of assholes. You're falling in to the same trap I did, and I won't let that happen to anyone else." He paused, and for a moment Castiel saw something that looked like sorrow swimming in his gray eyes. "It's too painful."

Castiel tore his gaze away and looked out at the city in front of them. He no longer understood his brother's intentions. He refused to believe that he was looking out for him, but could no longer bring himself to accuse him of anything malevolent, either. The pain in his eyes had been too genuine. Could Lucifer, Heaven's fallen angel and the dictator of Hell, truly be capable of such compassion?

"So the bone of a righteous mortal?" Castiel decided to get back to business, unsure of how to respond to his brother's sentiment.

"Maternus of Cologne," Lucifer held up a femur and smiled, flipping it around in the air as if it were a walking cane. "Stole this straight out of the Church of St. John, ancient dirt and all. Pretty well preserved, but calcium doesn't exactly decay quickly."

"Stealing from a Church is damnable, you know," Castiel mocked.

Laughing again, Lucifer wrapped his right arm around his younger brother's shoulders and placed the bone in his hands like a sword. "It better be, I have a reputation to uphold."

"I'm still having trouble understanding your intentions," Castiel admitted as he examined the bone.

"Of course you are," Lucifer gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, "you've been taught that I am evil, corrupt, and selfish. I wouldn't expect you to take to the truth easily." He rested his chin on Castiel's head, much as he had that first night he was back, and lowered his voice to a soothing murmur. "But you keep listening, and I am forever thankful."

Castiel just nodded, acknowledging the Devil's words but not giving them any meaning. He wasn't always coming back on his own accord, but he never immediately left, so that had to mean something, at least to the older. He still was unsure just how much he trusted the Morningstar, despite how open he had just been with him, how vulnerable he had made himself. No angel did that for just anyone, especially the Archangels. They confided in no one but each other. Lucifer had opened up to him, and he had liked it. He wanted to trust him, but he remained ever skeptical. He was not sure if it was Heaven or Dean to blame for his cynicism. But if the Fallen could help, and was doing so willingly, he would not reject it. He still had to redeem himself, if not to Heaven then to the Winchesters. And he would.

[xxx]

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