Chapter 14

Castiel picked himself up off the forest floor. He felt weak. His muscles shook with the effort. It was not an unfamiliar feeling, but it was one he had hoped never to feel again. His gaze turned upwards, and he regretted it almost immediately. The forest parted not too far ahead; he walked towards the clearing. Once there, his horrors were confirmed:

The angels were falling.

The urge to fall to his knees consumed him. What a human reflex, to fall to one's knees in the face of defeat. And that's what this was. He had failed. Was a failure. An absolute failure. He had made mistakes in the past but this, this was absolute. This was at the top of the list. Once again, he had trusted so resolutely, so naively, he could not see just how much of a pawn he was in someone else's hand. The angels, his brothers and sisters, were now being expelled from their home because of him. Because of his ignorance. What had only been his desire to help had fueled… this. Failure.

He did not fall to his knees. Instead he walked. A road appeared under his feet soon, and he followed it. He didn't know where it lead, but he didn't care. Every effort he ever made to fix his mistakes only yielded more mistakes, so he would not this time. This time he would turn his back. He was human now. Heaven was the responsibility of the other angels now. He could not defeat Metatron on his own. His Grace was gone, erased, used in a spell, and he didn't care anymore. So he followed the road, and when he got tired he would rest, and when he awoke he would keep walking. He would travel until he collapsed from exhaustion and never awoke again. And this was alright with him.

[xxx]

After he dismissed Lucifer, Castiel still half expected to hear from him. He expected a follow-up at least, some sort of attempt to get back on his good side. At the very least, he expected to still hear his brother inside his head. He heard nothing. He felt nothing. It was as if Lucifer were back in the pit, and none of it had happened. In a way Castiel felt better. So why did some small part of him yearn for his brother to attempt to make amends?

When he left with Dean that night, they met up with Sam. He decided that since he was an outcast of Heaven and had only the Winchesters, he wanted to join them and become a hunter. Dean was weary of the thought; Sam seemed supportive enough. With Crowley smote, their jobs certainly got a little easier as far as demons were concerned. Hell was a mess in terms of management, as was Heaven, so while they did not have any schemes to put up with, there certainly were more than a few demons on their tails now that Crowley had no pull. He stayed with them for a while, but in the end the call of a young angel named Samandriel drew him away from them.

He had known that Heaven was a mess, but what Samandriel described to him, about Naomi's corruption… He wanted to be surprised, but the angels' capacity for insanity had stopped surprising him long ago. With God and the Archangels gone, they did not know how to compose or lead themselves, and he had set a poor example for them. Naomi's brutality did not stun him beyond reason. It just made him sad for his brothers.

In the end though, Naomi was nothing compared to him. He devastated Heaven, and even hurt the humans substantially during his Leviathan episode. Once their shepherd, he slaughtered them by the dozens, his brothers by the hundreds. This time, though, he wiped out every angel in one swift motion. Indirectly, yes, but he was still involved. All because he had not seen. He hoped Samandriel was okay, that he did not die during the fall. Samandriel was still a fledgling in many ways. The idea of him being gone so early was disturbing. The idea of any of them, young or old, being burned alive as they fell to Earth, their wings catching flame and their Graces burning out… He couldn't think about it just yet.

He didn't know how, but the Winchesters eventually found him. They were in their bunker now, trying to strategize and hopefully think of a way to restore Heaven. Castiel still had little hope.

"So, Metatron seriously used your Grace?" Sam asked, brow knitted in confusion. Castiel nodded once. "How is that even possible? I thought it was kind of, like, your life force."

"You lost your soul once," Castiel reminded him, "In many ways an angel's Grace is like a human soul. It grants us our power. Our wings are an extension of it, like how your spinal cord is an extension of your brain. That is why many of the angels' wings caught flame; they were being cut off from Heaven, and therefore their Graces were weakening. Not enough to make them completely powerless, but enough to make their wings more vulnerable. It's possible to take away from us without killing us, and Metatron knew how."

"Okay, so, is there any way to get it back?" Dean asked.

Castiel sighed. "I am unsure. It was used in a spell. Its energy was most likely used up, dispelled. I sincerely doubt it will be possible to restore." A thought flickered through his mind. "But… There is a possibility of getting me a new one."

"A new one? What you sayin' Heaven's got a cupboard full of Graces?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"Not exactly. But there is a fountain, in the center of God's Palace. It is… well, it is difficult to explain exactly what it is because it is many things all at once, but it could restore me as an angel. Assuming it doesn't kill me."

"So it'd either get you a shiny new pair of wings or kill you?" Dean snorted. "Awesome."

"Once you were at full power again, do you think you could take on Metatron?" Sam asked.

"No," Castiel admitted honestly, "He's not an Archangel, but he was ranked with them. He's much more powerful than me. Even fresh from the Fountain's waters I would likely not be able to overpower him. That's of course assuming we could even get in to Heaven and get to it before he killed us all."

"Well, we'd kind of have to be dead to get in to Heaven, wouldn't we?" Dean joked.

A half-smile cracked on Castiel's lips. "Yes, I suppose we would, now that I cannot grant you both access. The only way through those gates would be to die."

"Not like we haven't done that before," Sam remarked, "Think we'd still get a ticket upstairs?"

"You two, perhaps," Cas sighed.

"Hey man," Dean's voice had dropped to its serious register, "You didn't know. Metatron had us all fallin' for his bookworm crap. You just wanted to help your family. How were any of us supposed to know that he wanted the whole house to himself?"

"He has lived on his own all these centuries and he has enjoyed it," Cas said, "He turned his back on his work, his brothers, and Heaven. No one heard from him in millennia. He did not seem depressed when we found him. I should have sensed that his desire to suddenly return and help was suspicious. There were many wars in Heaven during his time away. Why would he have a change of heart now, unless he wanted something? I should have seen it. I have been so blind for so long." His head dropped to stare at his hands, hanging limp in his lap.

Sam sighed and let his hand fall to slap the table. Books cluttered the large surface, ones that they had all sorted through trying to find the spell that Metatron had used and hoping to find some sort of counter-spell or even find the rest of the ingredients and incantations for the spell to give them an idea of exactly its reach. They had found absolutely nothing.

"Okay, so," Sam voiced his thoughts aloud, "We've got an unknown spell, with an unknown and possibly nonexistent counter, a Fountain somewhere in Heaven that could restore Cas's Grace but no way of reaching it and no way of knowing if he could still take him on afterwards. We've also got a lot of angels that want to find Cas and get even for inadvertently kicking them out of Heaven. Did I miss anything?"

Castiel fidgeted. "I hate to be the one to say it, but, there is one factor we haven't yet considered that could possibly 'tip the scales' as you say."

"Oh?" Dean asked skeptically.

"…Lucifer-"

"Don't even finish that sentence," Dean snapped.

"Dean," Sam held up a hand, "Just let him talk."

Cas paused, unsure if he should. Finally, he kept going. "The spell was designed to dispel all angels from Heaven. But Lucifer has been disconnected from Heaven for aeons. It is possible that the spell had no effect on him. And he is substantially more powerful than Metatron."

"You're saying we should ask the Devil for help?" Dean said.

"I'm saying we have limited options and limited allies," Castiel explained. "In all those months that Lucifer and I were… acquainted, he wanted only to help me. The only price he seemed interested in was my kinship. If we go to him, there is a possibility that he will help, and for little other than my company."

"You really think he'd give it up just like that?" Dean asked incredulously.

"I think he's lonely," Castiel answered honestly, "And I think, despite everything, he still loves and misses his brothers and his home."

"Dean," Sam said, "I hate it as much as you do, but we don't have a lot of options here. If Cas really thinks that Lucifer can defeat Metatron, that should come first."

"And what about restoring Heaven?" Dean asked.

"He may be familiar with the spell. The Archangels have direct contact with God; or had, I suppose I should say now. Either way they know more about the workings of Heaven. Metatron had to learn or hear about that spell from somewhere. And if he knows it, surely the Archangels did. Metatron left before Lucifer was cast into Hell."

Sam rolled his shoulders and looked to Dean, who was tensed and very visibly angry. "I don't like this," Dean gritted out through clenched teeth.

"Neither do I, but it might be our only shot." Sam concurred honestly. He looked at Castiel now. "He told me once that he'd never lie to me. How good do you think his word is?"

"An angel and his vessel are connected. Not only would he never, but he cannot lie to you anyway. If he somehow managed to, you'd be able to sense it. You have a direct line to him. I'm sure you've noticed a sort of tingling every time you've been in his presence." Sam nodded once. "As I said, you and him are connected. So no, he would not lie to you because you would sense it. His words, when spoken to you, are trustworthy."

Sam smiled. "So should I do the talking?"

A loud smack echoed through the space. "Are you two freaking serious right now?" Dean demanded. Both sets of eyes flickered quickly to his balled fist on the table; the source of the noise. "Are you forgetting that he started the freaking apocalypse and made our lives a living Hell for a whole year? He nearly beat me to death in your body, Sam, and he tricked you into letting him in. He's a monster and a con artist and he'll only screw us over in the end just like every supernatural freak we've ever decided to trust because it seemed like the 'only option' at the time. I'm tired of getting burned by these guys because we're desperate."

"He's been back for how long?" Sam reminded him, "I don't see another apocalypse happening. Well, not that apocalypse, anyway. If he wanted to get that show back on the road don't you think he would have done it by now? Especially with no more angels to stop him? If Michael got out with him he's sure been quiet about it, and if he went straight back to Heaven he'd be a bit useless right now. So he's had a huge freaking opportunity these past few weeks and yet nothing seems to be in motion. I don't think he's interested in that storyline anymore. I think he was focusing on Cas because he was bored and yeah maybe wanted a little familial company. These guys are big into family, Dean. Maybe he will help just because Cas asks him too if he was so desperate to get into his good graces before."

"I still don't like it," Dean growled.

"Okay, you got a better idea?" Sam snapped, "Because we've been here for hours going through all these books, and before that you and I did some digging around. We've got nothing. But we've potentially got an Archangel that we can ally with and you're not even going to think about it? If he's got a soft spot for Cas that's even better than him always being honest with me."

Dean clenched his jaw. "Yeah and what if his conditions for helping us require him getting his true vessel? Where will we be then, Sammy? We just gonna let him wear you to the prom if he promises to give you back after? He's the freaking Devil, he practically invented lying. I'm sure he'd find a loophole in any arrangement we made with him."

"If he asks for that then I'll say no," Sam said.

"And if he does ask for that then we'll be right back at square one," Dean pointed out. "That's the only real payment I can see him asking for and there's no way he does this for free. So why bother going to him at all?"

"Because it's better than doing nothing," Sam said, "And right now, nothing's what we got."

Dean drummed his fingers on the tabletop. After a full minute of silence, he finally released an exasperated sigh. Getting to his feet, he made for the kitchen. "If we're gonna go through with this I'll need to be thoroughly drunk to be okay with it."

Sam just shook his head, an understanding smile on his face. "So," he said to Cas, "How do we find him to talk to him?"

"He always found me," Castiel answered. "But I could try calling for him. Maybe praying to him. It's not like I can search for him like I used to."

Sam's smile faltered a little bit. "You really sure about this, man?"

"More sure than I was of my association with Metatron. I know I have not proven myself the best judge of character, but Lucifer in our time together never gave me any reason to doubt his loyalty. His care for me is genuine. The last time I saw him, he promised me he would still be there to listen if I ever decided I wanted to go back to him. Hopefully he was being honest."

Sam nodded. "Whenever you're ready then, I guess."

Castiel smiled faintly, and glanced briefly in the direction Dean had left. "I think I'll allow Dean a little more time to get inebriated."

[xxx]

They decided on the dungeon for the meeting spot. Castiel entered first, flanked by Sam and Dean, both armed with an angel blade each just in case. With Castiel human now, neither of them were taking any chances that the Devil attempted to kidnap him or worse. They closed the doors and painted an angel banishing sigil on the door with blood as an extra precaution. Castiel insisted that they not completely cornered him though, so the holy oil was left out of it. Once settled, Castiel called for him. After a verbal request did nothing, he decided to pray.

A flutter of wings sounded from in front of Castiel. He felt Dean tense to his right, Sam shift a little nervously to his left. Lucifer's eyes met his as he opened them, shimmering with concern. Outwardly, he projected amusement. But Castiel could see the worry behind them. How far you've fallen, you poor thing, they said to him. To be honest, the sympathy warmed him.

"Evening," the Devil greeted. He moved his head to take in the room. "Kind of gloomy meeting place, wouldn't you say? Though a bit more well-kept than the last location you chose for a chat, eh Dean?" He smirked at Dean's lack of response. Clearly, whatever was going on, they had told Dean to leave the talking to Sam and Cas. At least they were thinking strategically.

"Did you feel it, Lucifer?" Castiel asked, getting off his knees.

Lucifer met his gaze again. "How could I not?"

"You know about the angels getting thrown out of Heaven then?" Sam asked.

"Of course I do," Lucifer said, "I imagine every supernatural creature felt it, pure or evil or otherwise. The humans chalked it up to a meteor shower, but you lot have been disconnected from the world around you for a while now. Hardly surprising none of you felt it. It would have been small anyway. Just an… unsettling sort of feeling in your chest as Heaven screamed and screamed and screamed. That was a powerful spell. Who cast it?"

"Metatron," Castiel answered solemnly.

Lucifer's eyebrow arched. "He's back?"

"He… sought me out. I thought we were working to close the gates of Heaven so that we could keep all of the problems of Heaven contained and work out all of the issues with our brothers. Those were not his intentions at all."

"He used your Grace for the spell." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

Sam tilted his head back. "Is there any way to reverse the spell?"

Lucifer looked up at him. "Not that one. A counter was never made. Frankly I don't know why it was invented in the first place. I think God made it as a fail-safe in case the angels ever went rogue. I know there were talks of Him using it in a targeted manner in order to expel me and my army during the war. But he never ended up using it; probably scared He couldn't enhance it to target only the rebels."

"God couldn't control his own spells?" Sam asked lightly.

"Spells are tricky. Once they're made they become their own source of energy, separate from His powers. In that instance, a spell would have been far less exhausting to use, but making them at all is complicated and time-consuming, and at that stage of the war he certainly didn't have time. This is all trivia though. I'm assuming you called me here for more than just information?"

"Help," Castiel said. "We want your help in defeating Metatron."

Lucifer regarded him. "What is there to defeat?"

"He is the only one still left in Heaven. We need to overthrow him and find a way to restore whatever angels are left," Castiel explained.

The Devil thought for a moment. "I think it makes for an interesting change of command, actually. Metatron's a clever one."

"There is no command, there is only Metatron," Castiel's voice was getting desperate. "The rest of our brothers and sisters have been forced out of their home. They are scrambling to acquire vessels so that they might survive but what are they to do? They are still angels so they will not simply die and return to Heaven but they have no way back. You told me that you still cared about them. About all of them. Please, will you help us get them back home?"

Lucifer's eyes narrowed at Castiel's use of "us." The former angel's fists clenched nervously at his sides. The complexities of language were still new to him, but he imagined something in his wording was putting Lucifer off. "I thought the Winchesters did not care for the angels."

"We don't," Dean spoke up. Sam shot him a look, but he kept on. "But it's better than having them down here. The angels belong in Heaven so we want to get them back up there."

"So it's not that you honestly care for them," Lucifer accused, "It's just that you find them annoying and an inconvenience. Having them in Heaven is better than having to live with them on Earth, right?"

"They're hunting Cas," Sam interjected. "They think he knew all along what Metatron did and helped him willingly. We want to keep him safe as well as get the angels back home."

"Oh, do you honestly think I'd let any of them hurt him?" Lucifer's eyes had not left Castiel. "I know I've been a bit distant but ever since the angels fell I've been lurking in the shadows. I imagined one or two of them might decide to take up the opportunity to settle some old scores. I know a few of them have gotten a bit too close for comfort, but I was never going to let them harm you. You really think I would, after the two years we had together?" His eyes sparkled. "I made you a promise that night in the woods that I'd never let anything hurt you, not even yourself, and I've kept to it. And you consented to that. You've been mine ever since that night, Cas."

"Since what night?" Dean demanded.

"The night you were sent to Purgatory," Lucifer explained, "As he probably explained to you by now I was the one that pulled him out of the blast zone. Soon as he was free of it he tried to kill me, thrust a knife into my head." Lucifer grinned.

"Don't," Castiel pleaded in silent prayer.

"…Let's just say that wasn't the thrusting that he ended up following through on," Was all the Devil said. Castiel ground his teeth but did not say anything in fear of bringing any more attention to the subject.

"Will you help us?" Castiel asked.

Lucifer's eyes darted between his brother and the elder Winchester. "You took away my ability to fulfill that promise, Dean Winchester," he growled.

"You just said you still kept it," Dean said.

"Because I keep the promises I make, but I had to do so from afar. You forced him to choose between his family and a couple of humans. He could not have your friendship if he continued his association with me. And the only reason you forced his hand like that is because you know he'd choose you. I'm not upset with him for choosing you, but I'm upset with you for forcing that on him. And what are you and Sammy fighting for, exactly? You're not on the side of the angels, you're on your own sides, as usual. You're not looking to benefit the angels and return them to where they belong, you're looking to get rid of them like they are pests who have invaded your territory. Your reasons are not noble and they certainly are not with the best interests of Heaven in mind. So why the Hell would I offer you my help?"

"Because they're your brothers," Sam said, "And you told Cas that you still cared about them. Who cares what our intentions are, what would matter if you helped us would be yours."

Lucifer sighed. "I do care about my brothers, very much. But if they knew of my resurrection they would not ask for my help either. I care for them, but they don't care for me. They haven't for a long time."

"I care for you," Castiel said, his voice sounding very small. He could feel Dean bristle at that from behind him. "Help me, Lucifer, help me make things right, just as you told me you would months ago. Sam and Dean will merely assist us. Do not think of it in aiding them. Just help me." His voice caught on his next words as he asked, "Please, brother."

Lucifer regarded him for a moment. Castiel could see him honestly considering his plea. But then his eyes shifted to land on Dean, and his composure changed. "Dean is not happy about this arrangement at all," he noted, "I assume he was not exactly on board with the idea of asking me for help when it was first pitched?"

"I'm goin' through with it, aren't I?" Dean barked.

"With the help of some Dutch courage, yes," Lucifer remarked, "But you still don't trust me. You've made sure to keep your angel blade and that banishing sigil in full view, while Sammy has left his tucked in his belt."

He looked to Castiel again. "I'm sorry, brother, but I will not ally myself with an unwilling party. It makes for poor cooperation and working conditions." His eyes sparkled, as if he were refraining. "It was so nice to see you again." And then he was gone.

Dean turned on his heel and pulled the doors open without skipping a beat. "So now what?" He demanded as he stormed out of the dungeon. "Turns out he doesn't even want to help us. What have we got now?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair as he followed his brother, taking a seat at the table again. "I guess we just keep digging through the Men of Letters' records. Maybe if we're lucky we can find something on a back door in to Heaven, like there was for Hell."

"That back door was through Purgatory," Dean grumbled, "I wonder where the back door to Heaven will be through."

"If there is one at all," Castiel sighed, "And that's of course assuming that Metatron doesn't know about it and hasn't blocked it already."

Sam rested a sympathetic hand on the fallen angel's shoulder. "We'll find a way, Cas," he offered warmly, "We always do."

He nodded at the younger Winchester, but said nothing. The brothers left the dungeon, Dean fiddling with his angel blade and mumbling under his breath. Castiel stayed where he was for a moment, letting the light from outside fill the somber chamber.

You're all I have left, Cas thought. He felt his vessel - or his body, he supposed he must call it now - beginning to tear up, and fought the urge to cry. Don't abandon me, brother. Not when I have let our kin down again.

When he lifted his head, he was no longer in the bunker, but in the meadow where their relationship had first started to rekindle itself. Lucifer was standing, hands in his pockets, warm smile on his face. He approached the younger angel with a confident stride, taking one of Castiel's hands in his own.

"My dear Castiel," He said fondly, "I've told you. I'm never abandoning my family again."

The fallen one smiled weakly, and let Lucifer pull his head forward to rest on his shoulder. The hand massaging his scalp felt wonderful after the stress of all he'd let happen. "What have I done, Lucifer," he whispered, his voice that of a defeated martyr.

"Nothing that can't be undone," The Devil comforted, wrapping his free arm around the smaller man. Castiel mimicked the motion. If they remained like that for long, he did not notice, nor did he care.