A/N: Hey I'm still alive! Wow sorry that took so long, but college is college blah blah blah. That being said, it'll probably take me a bit longer between updates for a while (I'm HOPING I can wrap this up soon *crosses fingers*). Anyways, thanks to Mikey for tightening this shit up and thanks to all of you for reading :D

Cas remained on the couch, staring at his hands. He picked at his fingernails, noting the thin, brown film of dirt that had accumulated underneath. They were longer too, a strip of white peaking over the nail bed. I didn't notice that before. I'm going to have to cut them, even though they'll just grow back again and again and again... Cas felt momentarily suffocated by the weight of this minute, monotonous human task.

He heard the soft, familiar flutter and his heart leapt wildly in his chest. My brothers, they have not forsaken me. But the hope turned cold as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Unless they feel I'm dangerous. Or irredeemable, unfit even to commune with man. He kept his eyes averted; staring resolutely at the shiny, black shoes on the edge of his vision. Once, he would have been able to feel his brother, know him instinctively from the vibrant electricity that seeped from every pore. Thousands of angels, each with their own frequency. Now the silence yawned dark and black.

"Why have you come here?" The words tasted gritty and sour.

The angel huffed but didn't answer. Instead he took a few slow steps to the right, those impeccable shoes drifting out of sight as he skirted the coffee table.

"You stink of man, Castiel. More so than usual." His voice was rich and fruity, like dark wine.

Cas was unsure if he was referring to his physical loss of grace or the lingering scent of his previous company. Either way, he was lost.

"Just Cas… will do." He gritted his teeth, the name feeling foreign on his own tongue. Dean says it properly.

"And you should call me Uriel."

Cas' head snapped up, eyes widening in shock. We fought so long together, yet I can only see your vessel. The creased brown skin and broad shoulders. The light within you is hidden from me entirely.

"I'll admit, when I heard you fell, I almost didn't believe. You of all people! The one who was always so… by the book." Uriel chuckled condescendingly, like he was addressing a foolish underling. We used to be equals.

"I followed my orders. I saved Dean Winchester." He didn't feel like going through this again. The injustice of his situation. Cas clenched his fists, forgetting about his lengthy fingernails. Once upon a time, he would have been surging with righteous light, the power of Heaven blasting across synapses, filling each and every line on his palm with power. Now all I can draw is blood.

"True, but you lost Sam." Uriel clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing. "Now, I know what you're going to say: You needed Sam to make the deal so he could open that Devil's Gate and give you passage into Hell. That's all well and good, but," he heaved a regretful sigh, "we need both brothers."

"What for?" Cas snapped. "I was not informed of that before my mission. In fact," he squinted, "I was not told why it was necessary to remove Dean Winchester from Hell in the first place. Or why I was to accomplish this task with so few soldiers at my disposal."

Uriel shot him a warning glare, its meaning clear. Back off. This is no longer your domain.

"It's none of your concern, Castiel. Anyway, I'm not here to rub your nose in your shame, although," he wrinkled his nose in disgust, "humanity is unbecoming on you."

Cas tried to ignore the barb, rubbing his grimy skin as if he could wipe it off along with the dirt. And arrogance was always unbecoming on you, brother.

"However," Uriel continued, "it's possible that Heaven might just reconsider your incompetence. If you can manage to save Sam Winchester from damnation."

Cas squinted at the angel, searching for a hint of deception. Since when has Heaven changed its position on anything?

"And how am I to achieve that?" He asked instead. "I barely made it out when I was-" He swallowed harshly. "What you're asking is impossible."

Uriel spread his lips in a wide grin, revealing perfectly white, wolfish grin. "God works in mysterious ways."

"Are we done here?" Perhaps Dean's bravado was wearing off on him. Cas rose to stand, but was stopped by a hefty palm in the center of his chest. His heart jolted, reacting instinctively to the hum of Uriel's grace, like it was reaching out… But the sensation faded and all Cas could feel were thick fingers pressing into his shirt.

"Listen closely, because I'm only going to say this once: I can end you at any time. Wouldn't take much more effort than a sneeze, you pathetic stain." One fingertip wavered hypnotically a few inches from Cas' eye. "All you need to remember is that Heaven's got big plans for the Winchesters, and if you have faith," he spat the word out like a curse, "then you know that we'll provide for you."

Cas reached instinctively for his blade but grasped at empty space. He thumbed his belt loop fruitlessly, as Uriel watched him, impassive. Cas nodded slowly, careful to maintain eye contact. I can't fight you like this.

"Good, that's what I thought." He felt the weight lift from his chest as the angel stepped back, smiling nastily. He brushed an invisible speck of dust off his suit. "I'll be in touch."

Cas stared drunkenly at the empty space Uriel had occupied seconds before as the enormity of the situation dawned on him. He could ditch this ill-fitting shell for good. Shuck the essence of Jimmy Novak and fly straight back to Heaven, where his brothers and sisters would be waiting. His back tingled and itched as phantom wings stretched open. Cas bounced on the balls of his feet, chin tilted skyward as if he was preparing to leap into the universe. I can leave all this behind. The indignity, pain and sorrow. All these childish emotions.

He would have to leave Dean once again.

Green eyes, long lashes, cocky smile, spikey hair, freckles spread out like stars

No, he would help Dean once again. Together they would somehow muddle through Hell and retrieve Sam. That was what Dean wanted, wasn't it?

sharp hips digging nails wrapped up in panting breaths.

With Sam back on Earth and Cas back in Heaven, everything would be in its rightful place. As his father had intended.

slow burning frictionheat

But where was that exactly? Maybe he was looking at the world through a kaleidoscope, because the colors and shapes had shifted on him. His fundamental beliefs were buried under the scent of whisky and leather, his logic squashed between the saggy sofa cushions, reasoning run over by a black muscle car. A tornado had torn through the orderly world his father set up and Cas had no idea where anything belonged anymore.

stubborn infuriating blunt crude brave loyal

Dean