AN: I own nothing Supernatural related, as much as I wish I did.

When there was bad news to be told even the walls seemed to be clamoring to tell it, so Dean had heard about Lucifer and was staying up, waiting. Just as he'd expected, about half an hour after Dean would usually have retired for the evening, Castiel came stumbling through his door, his crown put back where it stayed between formal events but his royal clothes still on and his cloak still hung over his shoulders. They looked out of place with Castiel's slumped shoulders and haggard expression.

He looked at Dean for a minute, both of them unmoving. "You've heard then."

Dean nodded.

"I wasn't a surprise, but-" Castiel cut off abruptly, taking a deep breath.

Dean nodded again, moving to stand closer. Castiel wasn't crying, not yet anyway, but his breaths were shaky. "I know, Cas. I know. Just take it easy."

The squeak that came from Castiel's throat made Dean's heart ache. He took his hand and gently led him to the bed, softly pushing him down to sit on the edge. "Come on, Cas. It's alright. Just breathe. I got you."

He sat down beside Castiel and began to rub reassuring circles into his back. "How's your family taking it?"

Cas turned his head to bury his face against Dean's shirt. "Michael's glad Father finally got it over with. Gabriel disappeared to God-knows-where as soon as it was over, Balthazar went to get drunk, and Anael and Samandriel just went back to their rooms. And our father… I don't think he's sure that he did the right thing."

"It can't have been easy for him," Dean said, hoping he wasn't going to say something that would drive Castiel away. He couldn't imagine how he'd feel if Sam did something that made him have to be banished. At least Dean would be allowed to follow if anything ever happened, instead of being duty-bound to stay behind.

Castiel didn't say anything, but he did reach up and unfasten his cloak, tossing it across the room and out of the way. Whoever was in charge of cleaning it probably wouldn't approve, but there were perks to being royalty.

"Can I stay here tonight?" he asked quietly, vacantly looking at the ground.

Dean pulled him in closer, kissing his forehead. "Of course. Anything you need."

Castiel nodded and slowly released the breath he'd been holding. "I feel like I shouldn't be so upset."

"Of course you should. You just lost a brother."

"He's not dead."

"He's still gone."

Castiel shook his head, pulling away a little. "But I knew it was coming. Everybody did. I was even hopeful that it would happen, just so it would be done with."

"You also had hope that it wouldn't have to happen. You lost a brother, Cas. You're allowed to be upset about that. Your siblings are upset, right?"

Cas hesitated, then nodded.

"Do you think they shouldn't be?"

He shook his head.

"Exactly. You're allowed to grieve. You should grieve. You all should."

Castiel buried his head in his hands. "You're a hypocrite."

"What?"

"Don't think I don't know how much you refused to let yourself grieve over your parents' deaths." His tone was sharp and defensive.

Dean flinched. Castiel hardly ever brought them up, and certainly never so brutally.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for," Castiel said, pulling up the blankets and laying down.

"You're not wrong," Dean admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm not right."

Castiel tried to smile, but it wouldn't reach his eyes. He rolled to his side and a few minutes later his breathing evened out.

Dean stayed up another hour, absentmindedly stroking Castiel's dark hair, before lying down beside him.

Michael's chin was resting on his fist and he was grinding his teeth together, lost in thought, when Zachariah came in.

"Is everything all right, your highness?"

Michael sat up, drumming his fingers on the table now. "Is everything all right? Of course it's not, I'm heir to the throne. Something is always wrong."

Zachariah looked wary. "Is this about Prince Lucifer, your highness?"

"He isn't a prince any longer, Commander," Michael snapped. "Remember that."

The older man nodded. "Yes, sir, I will. But if it's not about Pr- Lucifer, then what is it?"

Michael considered Zachariah, wondering how likely it was that he would repeat their conversation to the king. Being the heir made the line between being spied on and having every breath obeyed very thin. "Does my father look well to you, Zachariah?" Michael ventured at last, careful to keep his tone level.

"The king, your highness? He seems well enough to me."

Zachariah was many things, Michael thought, but he didn't have much skill as a liar. Thankfully, he rarely had to in his line of work.

"Are you certain of that, Commander? He's seemed… haggard, recently. Not as active as he used to be."

"Well, your highness, the king isn't quite the young man that he used to be, of course. I don't think he appears ill, however."

'No,' Michael thought to himself. 'Not sick, I'll agree with you there. Old, yes. Old and tired. Lucifer's banishment may prove to be more than his heart can handle.' Michael hated to think of his father's potential death in the possibly very nearfuture, but it was something he had to consider. Lucifer had been driving their father's health down for a long time now, it was bound to be too much eventually.

"Thank you, Zachariah. How about Samandriel? Have you seen him recently? How does he seem to be taking Lucifer's banishment?" The more he knew about his siblings' states of mind the better. If they started building up resentment he ran a risk of them repeating Lucifer's performance.

Zachariah shrugged, gesturing with his palms out. "I haven't noticed any change in his behavior at all, your highness. Prince Samandriel has gone back to his training and the patrols of the immediate area as if he never left."

Michael didn't miss the bitterness in Zachariah's voice, but he chose not to comment on it. He could deal with Zachariah's jealousy over someone so young having so much potential at another time, if it came to that. "That's a relief, at least. I'm afraid Gabriel has taken it rather hard, and Balthazar and Castiel have both been affected as well." He'd been trying to determine Anael's opinions on the matter, but she was harder to read than his brothers were.

"And you, your highness?"

Michael fixed Zachariah with a dark glare, daring him to press that issue. "I do what has to be done for the good of this kingdom, Commander. I don't stew over my decisions."

He could see Zachariah swallow nervously and nod his head. "Of course, your highness. Was there anything else?"

"Not at the moment, Zachariah. You can go back to your duties." Michael stood up. "I'm going to go see my father."

Zachariah nodded, bowed out, and left. Michael departed in the opposite direction, heading for his father's office.

King Charles was sitting behind his desk when Michael arrived, surrounded by papers but not appearing to be doing anything with them. The room smelled like wine.

"Oh, Michael," the king said after a moment. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you. I wanted to be sure you weren't having second thoughts about making the decision to banish Lucifer."

Charles sighed. "Michael, he's your brother. Do you have to be so callous about everything?"

"Father, it had to be done, you know that as well as I do."

"That doesn't mean we aren't allowed to be upset about having to do it."

Michael didn't respond. They'd had similar arguments many times before Lucifer's banishment, he doubted they would resolve it any better now. At this point it would just be beating a dead horse.

"Oh, Michael. Sometimes I wish I'd only had one child. It would have been much less stressful for me. Worrying about seven children on top of the entire kingdom is a bit much for one man to handle." He smiled wanly.

"None of us are children anymore. Even Samandriel is an adult now. I think he's ready to start leading patrols farther than just the surrounding forests."

The king looked at him incredulously. "You want me to banish one of my sons, I do that, and now you want me to send another son to the borders of the countries that are still uncertain of us because of what the other son said?"

"I didn't say he was ready to be sent all the way to the border." Michael thought he probably was, but it would be best to approach that particular argument one step at a time.

Charles waved one hand dismissively. "Samandriel is the most stubborn of all of you, Michael. If I give him an inch he'll insist he's ready for a mile."

"He has to start somewhere."

The king shook his head. "Not yet, he doesn't. It's barely been three days, Michael. Give it some time. Not everything has to be strict and efficient all the time. The kingdom doesn't start falling apart because the king thinks about things and has a drink."

"How about when he has a few dozen drinks?"

Charles didn't answer, just shook his head. "Michael, you aren't very much like me, you know that? I hope that turns out to be a good thing." He turned away and started to read through one of the papers on his desk.

Feeling uncomfortable, Michael left without saying anything else. Sometimes he felt that his father was getting old and was no longer fit to be the king of Edengar. Other times the man made Michael feel like a little child again, caught pulling the dogs' tails.

Castiel was amazed by how quickly the entire castle seemed to forget that Lucifer had ever existed. His room had been cleaned and turned into just another guest room, his crown sat in a case in the royal treasury, his spot at the dining table was filled by Gabriel, whose spot was filled by Balthazar, and so on. Talking to Dean that morning, Castiel had morbidly wondered if it would be so easy to forget his father's existence once the king died.

Dean had suggested that it might be good for Cas to get out of the castle for a while, maybe go for a ride or something.

Which was why Castiel was standing at the stables, waiting for his horse to be ready to go.

"Castiel?" Samandriel had appeared, evidently freshly back from a training session, as he was covered in grass stains and dirt, and there were more than a few bruises forming. "What are you doing?"

"Thought I'd go for a ride," Castiel replied, gesturing towards the black horse with a white mane and tail now being led towards him. "Would you like to join me?"

Samandriel tilted his head, considering, then nodded. "Sure. Just give me a minute to clean up a little and change. Tell them to get Feorh ready for me, would you?" He jogged up the steps to the castle doors and disappeared.

Castiel gave the stable-hands the order and swung himself into Cempa's saddle, wrapping the reins around his hand to hold her in place while he waited.

True to his word, Samandriel didn't take long, his nearly golden horse was only waiting for a minute or two before the youngest Novak returned and the two were ready to leave.

"Do you have any particular destination in mind?" Samandriel asked as they rode down the pathways leading to the forest.

"Not specifically. Thought we'd just ride through the woods for a bit. Any preferences?"

Samandriel shook his head. "No. It's been a while since I've been on a horse for anything other than patrol, you know that? It's kind of nice."

Castiel smiled at his little brother. "It's been a while since you've done anything that doesn't have to do with the army somehow. You work too hard."

"I like the army. I'm good at it. And I'm not very good at politics, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I had, actually," Castiel said mildly, remembering all too well the many times Samandriel had very nearly ruined their relationship with some Edengar noble with an overly inflated sense of their own importance. He had a tendency to say what was on in his mind, which just didn't end well with nobility. He'd finally been ordered to do his best to stay out of the way during events and let his family make excuses for him. Family that wasn't Gabriel, now that the McNivens believed that Samandriel was secretly extremely mentally ill.

The brothers rode for a little over an hour, rarely speaking. When they did talk it was limited to casual things, like pointing out the birds across the river or mentioning that that part of the river might be a nice place to go fishing. A large and even part of the trail had them racing through the trees, Samandriel winning by a landslide since he had so much more experience with having to control his horse at high speeds over difficult terrain.

"You should train with us some," Samandriel said when they stopped to give the horses a rest in a clearing beside the water. "Learn how to make Cempa take jumps and corners a little smoother."

"Or you could have your men embarrass me."

"Embarrassment is good for the soul. Builds good character."

Castiel chuckled. "Who told you that?"

Samandriel's good mood dropped off his face and he looked away. "Lucifer," he mumbled.

The air of the forest grew heavy and thick. Lucifer. It didn't matter that all traces of him seemed to have vanished from Edengar, he couldn't be erased from memory so easily. And the memories were painful now. Castiel remembered Dean telling him that they'd get a little less so over time, get to the point where they were bittersweet instead of just bitter. He hoped the other man was right. He did have experience, Castiel supposed, after losing both of his parents.

Perhaps he could ask Gabriel if he agreed, Cas thought, continuing to not acknowledge the uncomfortable atmosphere. He might be willing to talk about their mother's death. Castiel was too young when she died to remember anything about her, or even how his family had dealt with it.

"Castiel?"

"Hmm?"

"Does Father look ill to you since Lucifer left?"

Castiel felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. He'd been hoping he was the only to notice so he could tell himself that it was all in his head. "He's…" Castiel sighed, reminding himself that he wouldn't do anyone any favors by lying in an attempt to protect Samandriel - or himself. "He's looked tired."

Samandriel nodded. "And it's only been a few days. What if it just keeps getting worse?"

"It's only been a few days. He could be fine again in just a few more. Maybe he just needs some time to process what happened."

"Do you actually believe that?"

The worse thing was that Castiel could tell from Samandriel's tone that he'd believe him if he lied. He'd want to. But Castiel couldn't do it. Samandriel deserved better than that. "I don't know if I believe it. It's what I'm going to keep telling myself until I have a reason not to though."

Samandriel nodded, then shook himself. "Come on. We've sat here being depressing for long enough."

Castiel couldn't agree more.

They were almost halfway back to the castle when Gabriel came up out of nowhere on Sleipnir, his large gray horse, with his hunting dog, Fenrir, running alongside. He was moving so quickly that he nearly drove Samandriel and Castiel right off the path.

"Gabriel!" Castiel scolded once he'd gotten Cempa to calm down again. "What the hell was that?"

"Are you tryingto kill us?" Samandriel asked, voice less panicked and more irritated. Castiel put it down as a result of sparring with Gabriel regularly. The man was a menace with a sword, and not in the way that meant he was a good soldier. More in the way that he was going to take his own arm off someday, and probably somebody else's head with it.

Gabriel just grinned, eyes crinkling up and looking all together immensely proud of himself. "I heard the two of you were out here. Couldn't resist."

"Your plan was to ride around the forest like a madman until you ran into us?" Castiel asked incredulously. Sometimes he wondered if Gabriel was truly related to him.

Gabriel managed to look even more pleased with himself. "Simply put, yeah. Fenrir and Sleipnir needed the exercise."

"Of course," Samandriel said, rolling his eyes and pushing his horse into a walk again, going around their older brother. "It was for the animals' sakes."

Gabriel nodded. "Of course. I'm a very giving person, you know."

Castiel chuckled at that and began following Samandriel. "Naturally. We'll see you at dinner, Gabriel."

"See you then!" Gabriel gave a quick kick to Sleipnir's side and both the horse and the dog took off at top speed again. All three were quickly out of sight.

"Where do you think he's going in such a hurry?" Samandriel asked, watching him go.

Castiel shrugged. "It's Gabriel. He frequently hurries to get nowhere. Come on, let's get home. I'm tired of smelling like a horse."

Seven weeks passed after Lucifer's banishment, and it slowly became impossible to deny that the king's health was quickly deteriorating. Michael was lying awake at an ungodly hour of the morning, trying to decide what he should do about it.

Telling his brothers and sister presented the greatest challenge. They all seemed to have accepted Lucifer being gone without much difficulty, but there were still traces of grief in each of them, however well hidden. Michael knew what to look for. Reading his siblings was one of his greatest skills.

They would need to know sooner or later, of course. Their reaction if they discovered Michael had been hiding something so important from them could be even more dangerous than their reaction to the news initially. And they weren't stupid, at least some of them had to have noticed that all was not well. It was getting harder and harder to deny it, especially with as often as Michael was taking his father's place in day-to-day duties. The king almost certainly wasn't going to live through the rest of the year.

Michael was starting to wonder if he'd make it through the month. He gave up on sleeping, pushing the blankets away and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He wrapped himself in a light robe, stepped into his slippers, and ventured out into the quiet of the castle.

There were guards around, but they were silent and didn't even acknowledge his presence. It was above their stations to question why the crown prince would be wandering around the castle in the middle of the night. Michael enjoyed the quiet the castle had to offer at this time. The soft slaps of his shoes on the stone floor echoed lightly off of the walls and there was something oddly comforting about the noise.

The sound was also disorienting and it took Michael longer than it should have to realize that not all of the footsteps he was hearing were his.

He whipped around, tensing and preparing to shout for a guard, then froze. Castiel stopped dead in front of him and a few feet away, blue eyes huge. "Michael! What are you doing here?"

Michael couldn't think of a single time in Castiel's twenty-five years that he had sounded so nervous and guilty, and it caused his eyes to narrow with suspicion. "I think I should be asking you that question, Castiel."

He saw Castiel's Adam's apple bob as he gulped. He stepped closer, nerves tight. He didn't like the idea of Castiel, of all people, sneaking around and keeping secrets. He had enough unpredictability in Balthazar and Gabriel. "Castiel? Are you going to answer?"

Castiel's eyes shifted away, glancing around as though searching for an escape route or a topic change. "Sorry, Michael. I just… Well, I couldn't sleep so I went to get some fresh air. But I'm tired now, so I'm going to go to bed." He swerved around Michael, walking as quickly as he could without running.

Michael didn't believe a word he'd just said, but let him go. He did make a mental note to keep an eye on Castiel, however, so he could discover if whatever Castiel was hiding was potentially dangerous. Castiel was strange enough that he could easily be trying to conceal the fact that he was planting petunias by moonlight as that he was selling state secrets at the wall.

Whatever his brother was doing, Michael wasn't any more relaxed after their encounter. If anything, he was more awake than before. He continued walking through the empty corridors, listening to the echoes of shoes on stone, and wondering what was going to happen in the next few weeks. Even if the king continued to hold onto life, unless he began recovering Michael was going to have no choice but to become king in all but name. He was prepared for that, had been ready for years, but the thought of his father being too weak to do the job he'd been doing since before Michael was even an idea made his stomach twist a little.

"Michael? Is that you?"

The prince jumped at the sudden voice, turning to see his father coming down the hall, looking worn-out, but not unhappy. "Father. What are you doing up?"

"Don't take that tone with me, Michael," Charles said, tone and smile taking away from the sternness of the words themselves. "I'm an old man, I can walk around my castle at night if I want to. What are you doing up?"

"I can't walk around this castle at night too?"

Charles gave him a knowing look. "You couldn't sleep? You need to learn to sleep with a lot on your mind, you know. You'll be king soon and there's always going to be something that can keep you up at night."

'You'll be king soon…' So he knew he wasn't going to last much longer too. Michael had thought that was what he wanted, as it would make certain conversations - mainly, arguing about whether or not Michael should go to an event in his father's stead - much simpler, but he found he'd much rather have those arguments and carry on with a childish belief in his father's invincibility.

"And you've learned how to do that?"

Charles shrugged. "I've managed it before. But generally… no. No, I haven't." He chuckled to himself. "Being a king is a heavy burden, Michael. A very selfish part of me will be glad to give it to you."

Michael swallowed thickly. "You make it sound as though that will happen tomorrow."

If he was hoping for a joking reply he was sorely disappointed.

The king looked off into the distance at something only he could see and one corner of his mouth tugged up sadly. "Tomorrow? Maybe. Maybe not. Soon though. It will be soon." He let out a heavy breath and it seemed as though he was releasing hundreds of years of trials and tribulations along with it. "Do take care of your brothers and sister, Michael. You all need each other."

His eyes suddenly looked very sad and it struck Michael with a new sort of clarity just how very old his father was. "I don't think sending Lucifer away was the right thing after all. There must have been some other way I just didn't see. I shouldn't have given up on a member of my family so easily."

"It had to be done, father. We both know that." Michael's voice wasn't as argumentative as it usually was when Lucifer came up in conversation.

King Charles shook his head. "You'll understand when you have your own children, Michael." He studied his eldest son for a moment, making Michael feel uncomfortable, though he did his best to hide it. "I should have helped you find a wife. But I don't like thinking of you as being old enough for that."

"I'm thirty-four, father," Michael reminded him.

"I know that! I'm not thatold, Michael. But you are still my son and that's a hard thought to let go of. I am sorry, though. There are some things I should have done differently." He began to walk away and Michael knew instinctively that he was expected to let him go.

"I love you, Michael," the king said, quietly, and Michael was unsure if he was supposed to be able to hear it. "You and your siblings. I just hope I did right by you all."

The castle fell silent once more, and Michael felt that it had become chilled. No matter how hard he tried that night he couldn't warm himself up once more.

Castiel was worried after being caught by Michael while returning from visiting Dean, afraid that Michael would be unwilling to let it go and discover something Castiel would prefer to remain hidden. Michael didn't say anything, however, and Castiel, after three days of being nervous and exceptionally cautious, began to allow himself to believe that the man had forgotten their encounter, or at least believed his lie.

It was two nights after that third day that Castiel was woken from his sleep early by the clang of mourning bells ringing through the courtyard. He sat up immediately, startled awake, the sinking feeling in his stomach acknowledging what had happened before his mind dared to consider it. Something childish in him wanted to lay down again, bury his face in the pillow, pull the blankets over his head, and pretend he was just dreaming. Reality hadn't been a pleasant thing to face for a while now, and Castiel was really starting to wish he didn't have to keep doing it.

"Castiel?" Samandriel's voice came through the door a few minutes after the bells began, muffled almost past recognition by the wood. "Are you still in there?"

Castiel sighed. "I'm here," he called back. "Just a moment."

He got up, pulling on his clothes and a pair of boots before reluctantly opening the door. Balthazar had joined Samandriel, or perhaps he'd been there the entire time, and both of them had the same look on their faces as Castiel did; resignation to what all three of them were certain those bells indicated.

"Are you ready for this?" Balthazar asked, tone attempting for light-hearted and falling just short.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Castiel said grimly. Samandriel nodded, face set into the harsh lines he always slipped into with the soldiers or when he didn't want people to know what was going through his head.

Michael and Gabriel were already in the king's room when they arrived. The two of them looked up when they entered. Gabriel's eyes looked red, although they were dry. Michael's expression was emotionless. He could have just as easily been at the bedside of a stranger.

"It looks like he died in his sleep," Gabriel said, voice choked, as Ana entered, looking more disheveled than Castiel could remember ever having seen her before. "One of the servants came in to start a fire for him and realized he wasn't breathing."

Castiel wished he could sit down but it didn't seem right to use one of his father's chairs right now. King Charles was still on his bed, eyes shut and face relaxed, as if he was going to wake up any minute with a fond smile and tell them they needed to get more rest. It made Castiel's stomach churn to think that the main reason he knew the man wasn't going to wake up was that he hadn't looked so healthy in a very long time. Maybe since even before the fights with Lucifer began. Being king wasn't easy, and Charles had been old.

Mr. Letum, the village undertaker, arrived shortly after and all of them save for Michael retreated from the scene. Castiel knew that he, for one, had seen enough of his father's corpse to last him a life time. He had no intention of seeing him again until the funeral ceremony, and even then the king would be shut away inside a coffin.

For now, all Castiel really wanted to do was go find Dean, curl up next to him, and go back to bed, vehemently denying that anything bad had occurred. He wondered if Dean knew what had happened yet, if the mourning bells had woken him and if he'd realized what they were announcing.

"Castiel?"

He turned at the sound of his name to see Balthazar looking at him with a sad sort of hopefulness in his eyes.

"Samandriel, Anael, Gabriel, and I thought we'd go get something to drink together. Join us?"

Castiel couldn't help but look longingly in the direction he'd go to find Dean, but being with his family sounded nice right now too. Maybe he could help them, somehow. Things were going to be different now, Castiel knew. And he was rather doubtful that it was going to be for the best.

The five of them found some wine in the cellar, each filling a glass and sitting around in a circle so they could see each other easily.

Gabriel spoke first, raising his glass in an unenthusiastic toast. "The king is dead," he said, tone dull, making it clear that the news hadn't fully sunk in to him yet. "Long live the king."

The other four raised their glasses in response and echoed the words. "Long live the king."

Long live King Michael.