Wow okay back-to-back updates. It's been so long since I've done that. I missed churning out stories quickly. Remember when I said that there wasn't going to be any filler in this chapter, though? Turns out I lied. I needed a little more. From the way things ended last time I couldn't quite stray from the canon's storyline just yet. But this chapter isn't all filler, just enough to get it off the ground smoothly. From here it should be good to continue on its own for a while. Thanks for sticking with it!

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Chapter 12

Castiel returned to Dean and Sam, determined to make amends for his mistakes and regain their trust in that way he always felt necessary. It was true that he had given everything for them, and now, they were all he had left. Perhaps he could still have Lucifer, and the thought did not make him as uncomfortable as it did a year ago, but Lucifer was a gamble, a wild-card. The Winchesters were the only consistency he knew anymore. So he regrouped with them. Sam seemed no different around him, and as trusting as ever. Dean, much to the angel's dismay, kept him at arm's length. Though he refused to call it distrust; extra precaution were the words that came to mind.

Castiel found the location of the prophet Kevin quickly, but Dean did his own digging regardless. The angel did not join them when they went to retrieve the young prophet. He feared only more guilt at facing another he had failed to protect. Angels were meant to protect the prophets of the Lord, but he had been so preoccupied with the well-being of the elder Winchester that he forgot his Heavenly duties. Another shortcoming to add to his ever-growing list.

Crowley was less simple to locate. Warded against angels, it seemed, but still not impossible to find. Anyone that significant, on Earth, in Heaven, or in Hell, did not have the luxury of anonymity or secrecy. A quick interrogation of a lesser demon got Castiel Crowley's location. Again, Dean wanted to do his own research. But the hesitation resulted in Crowley capturing Kevin. Castiel did not allow his frustration to show, in fear of Dean's refute, but he convinced Dean to let him work with them to get Kevin back.

After Dean was satisfied with the intel he received on his own, they headed to the factory Castiel had cited in the first place. Large, abandoned, rusting, and altogether a bit creepy, it seemed like the sort of dramatic flair the King of Hell usually preferred for a place of confinement. Sam split from Dean and Cas to cover more ground, leaving the human and the angel alone. Castiel did not like how unsure this left him.

They heard him through a door, first Kevin screaming, then Crowley mocking him. The angel's Grace stirred. Every instinct in him was commanding him to protect the prophet. He flexed his wings, still invisible to Dean. The Winchester attempted to pick the lock, grunting in irritation when it would not budge. "It's not working," he growled, digging his lock pick in harder.

"Dean, I'm going in," Cas declared.

"No, we do this together or not at all," Dean said.

"I understand that you wish to keep an eye on me, but at the moment the safety of the prophet takes precedence."

"Yeah, and where was that mindset in the year when I was in Purgatory?"

Castiel met his eyes. "Dormant, because I was more concerned about getting you home than looking out for a prophet that the few angels left could still have bothered to protect." And he disappeared, only to reappear in a fraction of a second on the other side of the metal wall.

Crowley turned at the sound of rustling feathers. Castiel, the Angel of Mood-Swings and the result of many a thorn in his side, stood before him, glowering. He smirked.

"Castiel," he said lightly, "Fresh from Purgatory. Wish you'd called first."

"Crowley," Castiel growled, not bothering to correct him. It was no business of his where the angel had been this past year.

"Which Castiel is it this time, I'm never sure: madman or megalomanic?" the demon quipped sarcastically.

The angel did not entertain his snide remarks, only strode over to where Kevin was seated, bloody and missing a finger. Anger stirred inside him, but for the sake of what purity he may still retain, he quelled it. "Kevin is coming with me," he declared simply, and reached out to grab the prophet's shoulder.

"Think not," the demon challenged, "prophet's playing on my team now." He smiled. The angel's Grace stirred more violently, every instinct now telling him to smite the filth before him. He honestly did not know what was preventing him from doing so; after his healing session in the Fountain of Heaven, his full strength was at his disposal again. He could take the King of Hell on with the odds in his favor. But he decided on peace. He had destroyed enough life.

He willed an angel blade in to his hand instead in a threat display, and waved it in the demon's face. Raising an eyebrow, Crowley summoned his own. Kevin immediately stood and backed away behind Castiel. The angel's eyes only narrowed. He had always thought Crowley intelligent; surely he did not honestly expect to win a knife-fight against a soldier of Heaven?

"You are kidding," Castiel commented.

"You've got a good poker-face, I'll give you that," Crowley mused, "but I can see it plain as day. Literally fresh from Purgatory. Comin' out of that would weaken anyone, even an archangel. You might think you are, but you're not up for this. Not really. It's all very West-Side-Story, but I'll take my chances."

He let loose the restraints on his rousing Grace then. Light illuminated from underneath his frail human skin, pouring from his eyes and encompassing the room. He could feel all of Heaven with him as he let his Grace take control of the vessel. Fear darted across Crowley's features, but he remained in control. "Maybe you can get it up, but you can't keep it up," he said simply, but his voice sounded concerned.

Ducking his head, Castiel flexed his wings experimentally, before expanding his Grace further. He kept his wings from manifesting, but the expansion of energy would allow for their shadows to fall along the wall behind him. He stretched the appendages up and out, extending them to their full span and flaying the feathers. He knew exactly how intimidating he appeared. All demons, even the King of Hell, feared the sight of an angel's wings.

"You're bluffing," the demon snapped, but Castiel could hear his disbelief in his own statement.

The angel smirked. Dropping his blade to the floor, he forced his Grace outwards to send the demon flying across the room. Crowley recovered quickly, but froze in shock. Fidgeting with the blade in his hand, he eventually collected himself enough to take a fighting stance. Castiel's grin only widened at the sight. He raised his hand, ready to disarm the foul creature from a distance. As he did so, a figure appeared behind the demon. Castiel recognized his brother instantly, and hesitated.

"If you don't mind, brother," Lucifer said smoothly, "I'd like to handle this one personally."

Crowley spun round only to have his throat seized by the archangel, and pushed back against the nearest metal wall. When he attempted to raise his weapon in defense, Lucifer grabbed his wrist and snapped it, letting the weapon clatter uselessly to the ground.

"Crowley, Crowley, Crowley," he tutted mockingly, "To take on a Seraph at full power? I didn't think you were that stupid. Others, sure, admittedly I didn't create the most intelligent of species, but you? You were always a little cleverer. Egocentrism is one thing, but since when are you just flat out naïve?" A taunting smirk settled on the Devil's features.

"Lucifer," Crowley breathed, "How… How are you even here? I thought they locked you up for good." He humphed to himself. "Guess the Winchesters' reputation precedes them."

"Oh the Winchesters found a loophole, but in doing so also changed the rules of the game. Made the cage a little weaker. That's irrelevant and off-topic, however. We're talking about you."

He sensed a severe discomfort in the room, and turned his head to the side. A young man stood with his back against the grimy metal nearest the locked door. He heard the elder Winchester on the other side, fumbling with the chains. The human had an aura to him, an aura Lucifer had not felt in a long time: the aura of God. His lips parted.

"It's alright, Kevin," he reassured the youth, "He'll not be hurting you again. I'll be taking care of this frankly irritating abomination."

"You're one to talk," even with the Devil's hand around his throat, Crowley's attitude knew no limits. "You're the abomination, Luci. You're the one that started it all, the domino at the front of the line. The only reason impurity ever came to be was because you decided to say bugger all to the essence of perfection. Turned tail on God and the rest of your kind with fervor, even took some of your brothers down with you. And now here we are. So before you go talkin' all high and mighty, like killing me will actually redeem you of anything, remember where everyone else got the idea from."

The Morningstar's grip tightened, and he let his Grace energy seep through his fingers to burn the demon. Crowley hissed in pain. The angels were taught how to smite demons quickly and efficiently, to smother them from existence before they had the opportunity to escape. But Lucifer had made them, and he knew how to most effectively make them suffer. They thought they were the bringers of misery, but they knew nothing in comparison. As this body was Crowley's own, not a host's, he could drag it out even longer.

The door slammed open behind him, but he paid no mind to it. Dean Winchester would get his attention in time. Molecule by molecule, he ignited the demon's smoky form that lurked beneath the skin it manifested, and roasted each cell with acute precision. The fingers wrapped around his neck prevented the demon from screaming. Slowly, he was set ablaze, until every part of his being was white hot with angelic Grace. And then he dropped, lifeless, to the floor, no dramatic burst of light or energy, just an end met in the most painful of ways. When he was finished and the demon gone, Lucifer wiped his hand nonchalantly on his shirt, giving it a quick glance to make sure he didn't have any demon gunk on him. That happened sometimes. It was most unpleasant.

He looked up to find three sets of eyes on him: Castiel relieved, Kevin horrified, Dean Winchester disgusted and angry. He offered them a polite smile.

"My apologies," he started, rubbing his hands together, "Admittedly I've been awaiting the chance to do that for some time now. Afraid I may have gotten a bit carried away." He shifted his focus to the prophet. "Are you alright, Kevin?"

"I-" Kevin stammered and tripped over his words.

Lucifer glanced down at his bleeding hand. Sympathy softened his eyes. He kept his tone light. "You look a little asymmetrical there, kid. Let me see." He approached the prophet slowly, holding out his hand in silent request to examine the damage.

Dean stepped in front of him. "You better back the Hell off," he snapped.

Lucifer kept his countenance relaxed. "If you recall, Dean, it is the responsibility of the archangels to watch over the prophets of the Lord. Let's do a head count: Raphael is dead, Michael is imprisoned, Gabriel is - regrettably - dead, and Metatron has not been heard from in aeons. Many humans often forget this, particularly the most brainwashed of catholics, but I am still an archangel. Being locked in a box for four thousand years doesn't rob you of your species. Now then, that filth cut off one of his fingers, likely gave him a concussion, and I happen to have the ability to heal and restore limbs. So unless you've gained this ability yourself, you can let me do my job."

"Yeah you forfeited that duty when you became Head Dick," Dean growled, not stepping away from Kevin.

"Dean," Castiel snapped, "Let him heal the prophet."

"I don't trust this slimy douchebag," Dean growled, "You can heal him, can't you?"

Cas squinted. "I cannot touch him if an archangel is present."

"Then leave," Dean said to the Devil.

"Watch your tone, boy," Lucifer warned, losing his patience, "It can get you in to all sorts of trouble with things more powerful than you."

"Yeah you act as tough as you want. Just remember that we still beat you."

"We?" Lucifer taunted, "If I remember correctly I pounded your face in until you were barely coherent. You did nothing. Sammy did all the work. He's remarkable, he really is; managed to get one over on me just long enough to waltz on over to that hole in the ground." He glanced around the room, "Where is he, anyway?"

Dean launched at him, reaching for the angel blade that Castiel had dropped once he had the Devil on the ground. He heard the archangel laugh, and suddenly he was gone, leaving Dean recoiling to prevent his fist from colliding with the solid concrete of the floor.

The hunter leaned over his shoulder to see Lucifer by Kevin's side and reaching out for his injured hand. Kevin offered it with little hesitation, flinching when the Morningstar's frigid fingers cradled his wounded limb. Light shone from the Morningstar's palm, and when it dimmed, the prophet had all five digits again. He clenched and stretched his hand in bewilderment, then let his arm fall back to his side, a thankful smile on his face. Satisfied, Lucifer strode back to where Dean was, to stand merely inches apart from him.

"Word of advice," he mumbled in condescension, "Never stand between an archangel and his duty."

"Noted," Dean quipped, "Now a word of advice for you: never piss off a Winchester. Ask any of your little garrison buddies. We don't care if you're an angel or a demon or whatever. If you're supernatural and you're a dick, we kill you."

Lucifer's eyes widened. His jaw clenched. "How many of my brothers have you killed undeservedly, Dean?"

"They all deserved it," the Winchester sneered.

"You threatened to kill Castiel," the Devil said, his voice chillingly even. "You'd better check yourself, Dean Winchester, because my patience with you is running very, very thin."

"You did kill Cas," Dean reminded him with a smirk, "So don't try to play that card. Of the two of us you've done the most damage here."

The Devil flashed his teeth in a sinister grin. "Have I? Of the two of us, which one broke Castiel, and which one fixed him? Which one blamed him and condemned him for his mistakes, deemed him untrustworthy, and which one forgave him? For someone who clings to every justification he can dig out of the dirt, you seem to so easily ignore how dirty that still makes your hands."

"Assuming we're talking about the not-fun kind of dirty hands."

"Now there, I definitely have you beat."

"Lucifer!" Castiel shouted, appalled. The Morningstar instantly wiped his countenance clean, but mischief still shone in his eyes. He did not turn away from Dean to regard his brother. He was having too much fun.

"Perhaps you should take the prophet home now, Dean," Lucifer chided, "Surely his mother is worried. As you seem so keen to take care of him, I'm sure you'd prefer that to this meaningless little quarrel. Or are your only priorities killing monsters, and all the details can sort themselves out later?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. But he looked away first, towards Castiel. "Let's go find Sam and get out of here, okay? Place reeks of demons." He looked the Devil over. "And has-beens."

Lucifer seized his collar as he stepped towards the younger angel. Spinning him around, his fist cracked against the elder Winchester's temple. Dean fell to the ground, but caught himself and recovered quickly, re-gripping the angel blade.

"Stop!" Cas demanded.

"A moment, Cas," Lucifer said smoothly, "He needs to learn some respect." Dean's attempt to stab the archangel was avoided, and the Devil twisted the blade out of his hand to be tossed across the room. Kevin was backed in to a corner again, watching the violence play out. The Devil was a strong fighter, and Castiel could see that he was going easy, but it still made his heart ache. Dean bent to catch his breath, and was met with a kick to the diaphragm. He fell to the ground, wind knocked from his lungs.

That did it.

Castiel leapt onto his brother's back and wrestled him clear of the human. Once back on his feet, Castiel did not hesitate. He attacked again. Lucifer avoided some of his throws, but not all of them. The blows did not seem to shake him. A slip in Castiel's footing; he knocked one of the younger's legs out from under him, caught him by the wrists so he would not fall, and pinned him to the wall.

"Castiel," he barked, "I will not watch you waste your loyalty on someone so undeserving. You are an angel. He should respect you. He should at the very least treat you like his equal. I cannot watch you enslave yourself to him. You are an angel of the Lord, and one of the few who actually remember that! Remember what that means, brother!"

"It means I serve Heaven," Castiel hissed.

"Yes."

"Heaven is in ruin, and it was by my hand that it came to be so."

"Not the first time it's happened. This is fixable, Cas."

"We are their shepherds. We are supposed to protect them, not fight them. You will not hurt him."

"Yes. We are their shepherds. So stop being the sheep, Castiel."

"I owe him for failing."

"You don't owe him shit!" Lucifer checked himself, then softened his voice. "You don't owe anything to anyone. But you do owe yourself the dignity of being able to hold your head high. You made mistakes. So you fix them. Real friends don't force you to wallow in the guilt of your past to make up for it. They help you move on. You're backtracking with him, Cas. He's poisonous to you."

Cas glowered. "Because he's human?"

"Because he's Michael. And he'll only do to you what Michael did to me. You do remember it, don't you?"

Cas's eyes reflected his memories, the haunting visuals of that day so many thousands of years ago, the day the tides of Heaven changed forever. The Divine Kingdom's first civil war - well, first real civil war - and Castiel had had to fight as barely a fledgling. Lucifer remembered seeing him briefly in the ocean of battling angels. His first real battle as a soldier of Heaven, and it had to be against his brothers. He began to wonder if this had scarred the poor thing, made all of this possible.

Dropping his wrists, Lucifer cupped the raven-haired one's face. "Don't fall in to the same trap I did, Castiel. Trust is necessary. Naiveté will be the death of you."

The soldier's expression steeled again. "You will not harm him."

The Devil sighed. "Your attachment to him is bordering on the unhealthy, Castiel. Even by human standards."

Pounding of heavy boots against concrete; Lucifer peered over his shoulder, noting that Castiel did as well. Dean and Kevin turned to look when their ears finally detected it. "Dean?" Came a voice. Lucifer smiled in spite of himself.

Sam emerged in the threshold of the open door. His mouth parted in an "O" shape. His eyes fell upon Lucifer first, then Dean, on his knees observing the angels, then to Castiel, still trapped by the Devil, then to Kevin, who looked as if he wanted nothing more than to become one with the wall. "What's… what's going on?" He asked.

Relaxing, Lucifer raised his hands in peace and backed away from Castiel. "A lesson in self-control," he explained, "One we were all learning together." He glanced at Cas momentarily before returning to meet Sam's gaze. His eyes were warm, his smile genuine. Sam returned a look of indifference; it was better than contempt.

Sam finally noticed the shell of a body by the Devil's feet, clad in all black and alarmingly familiar. "Is that Crowley?"

Lucifer looked over his shoulder fleetingly, then beamed at him. "It was."

"You killed him?"

"It was supposed to serve as a sort of peace-offering," the Devil rubbed his hands together, "but unfortunately tensions are still high; old habits and all that. Egos got in the way. It was all rather messy." His eyes tracked over Sam's body with acute precision. "How are you, Sam? Been a while. How'd Amelia handle the break-up?" Sam's eyes narrowed. "Sorry. You don't have to answer, I already know. Just trying for small talk."

"You talk too much," Dean muttered.

"Yes but at least I think before I do," Lucifer chimed.

"I feel like I'm in one of those teen angst novels," Kevin moaned from in the corner.

Pondering his words for a moment, the Devil suddenly laughed. "Yes, this room is starting to remind me of Twilight. And I'm starting to feel like Edward. Shall we?" With a flick of his wrists, they were all standing outside the entrance to the safe house where Kevin and his mom were staying.

"And by the way, the only reason that insult to literature ever got as far as it did was because that desperate bitch sold her soul. You'd think she'd at least have asked for some actual talent, but no, she only asked that her vampire romance saga become a New York Times bestseller. Well, she got what she paid for, but I doubt she expected the infamy." He shrugged. "That part wasn't our doing. Where it goes once the deal is honored isn't our problem."

"Justifying cheating the system?" Dean prodded.

"It's an imperfect world," Lucifer responded.

"Wonder who's fault that is."

"Let's not," Lucifer held up a hand, and nodded in Castiel's direction. Then he turned his focus to the prophet. "Kevin, I'm sorry for the ordeal you had to suffer. It was a pleasure to meet you, finally. Will you be alright here now?"

The dazed prophet nodded once. "So, does this mean you're tethered to me? Like how the tablet says?" He noted for the first time that the object the prophet had been clinging to so desperately was the Demon Tablet. Metatron's distinctive handwriting littered the surface of the stone hugged tightly to the human's chest.

He offered an encouraging smile. "Not quite as the tablet describes. I'm cut off from Heaven, but I still retain direct connection to the angels. I can check in on you every now and again if you like, though. Just to be safe."

"No you won't," Dean shot down, "We can handle him."

"Much as you've endured, Dean, you and Sam still have quite the on-again, off-again relationship with life. If I didn't know any better I'd say the horseman had a bit of a crush on you." He grinned to himself. Castiel stopped his wandering thoughts before he began to jump to conclusions.

"Let me rephrase," Dean squared his shoulders, "He's our family. So back off."

Lucifer sighed. "You retain nothing, Dean Winchester. But, as I am currently outnumbered, I'll be the mature one and back off." He focused his attention on Castiel. "Cas, think about what I said. And don't just replay the words in your head, really think, okay?" His eyes looked pleading, almost desperate. And then he was gone.

Swallowing thickly, Castiel looked to Dean, whose jaw was clenched in frustration. He narrowed his eyes at the angel before wiping his expression clean and leading the prophet inside. Sam followed after a moment, glancing back over his shoulder when Castiel didn't move. He regarded the younger Winchester for a moment, but ultimately did not follow them inside. For the first time since he met them, he genuinely did not feel a part of their family. The only one who trusted him was someone he had been trained not to trust. The ones he taught himself to trust, suddenly did not fully trust him.

He was alone in his conflict again.

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I'm really sorry that this chapter was so all over the place! It felt choppy as hell to me when I was writing it but there's just no good way to smooth out having that many speaking characters in one scene. Like literally no way. Ask anyone who writes for TV, it's hard as fuck to have more than two people carry out a conversation without it feeling awkward. That's why most conversations are split up, especially during filler sequences. But there was no way to avoid it. We needed everyone to get in one room eventually. So here we have it. I'll likely revise this at some point when it's not 1:00 in the morning but I'm always eager to post once a chapter's finished. K I'm rambling. Don't forget to make my day with a comment! :)

Until next time kiddies.