Dean hummed along to 'Killed By Death' from under the body of the car he was working on. His feet tapped along as he mumbled the lyrics. He heard footsteps approaching the car and assumed it was Jake.

"Hey Jake, you mind throwing me the oil filter wrench?"

There was a pause and when the person who had approached passed nothing, he frowned.

"Jake?"

"Sorry, there's a lot of metal objects out here, not sure which one you want..."

All the blood in Dean's body froze at the voice. He gritted his teeth and swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut he took some slow breaths, forcing himself to stay calm. Sliding out from under the car, he stood up slowly and wiped his hand, looking Crowley square in the eyes.

"You've got a bit of muck on your nose, I'll get it." The demon took a handkerchief out from his jacket and reached towards him.

Dean didn't even flinch. "Don't touch me."

Crowley paused. "Alright then." He put it away and cleared his throat. "How's things, Dean? Been keeping busy?"

Dean glanced over at Jake's office and then headed around back where they wouldn't be over heard. Crowley raised an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder slyly before following.

"What do you want?"

"Can't a man drop by to see a good friend?"

"We're not friends."

"We used to be." Crowley put his hands in his overcoat pockets, rocking back on his heels slightly. "I wanted to apologise."

"Bullshit." Dean said plainly, keeping as still as possible. He had to get away from Crowley, he could feel the mark on his arm burning slightly. A voice whispering 'kill' over and over in the back of his mind.

"You wound me, Dean." His voice dripping with sarcasm. "And here I was being so pleasant."

"Look you son of a-" Dean gritted his teeth, his hand slowly making a fist.

"Dean?" Jakes voice called out from inside.

He took a deep breath, his hand relaxed. "Out back."

Jake appeared a moment later. He looked at Crowley and then between the two of them in mild confusion and curiosity. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just taking my break."

Jake narrowed his eyes slightly, then nodded to Dean. "Alright, I was going to make some coffee, you want?"

Dean nodded. "Sounds good."

"Milk one sugar, ta." Crowley smiled at him falsely.

"But you were just leaving." Dean looked at him, giving him a silent warning.

A wordless exchange passed between himself and his employee to make sure he was okay before he gave the two of them some privacy.

"Where were we? Ah yes, you were going to call me some insult and then punch me." Crowley smirked slightly.

"No. Though it makes me want to throw up, I'm going to try and appeal to your better nature. Crowley, please go. Leave me alone, I am out of the business completely and I do not want to get back in." he folded his arms, keeping them close to him so they wouldn't act on their own and rip the smug demons eyes out. "I'm... happy."

"I know, very happy. Squirrel and giraffe playing mummy's and daddy's and re-enacting scenes from Brokeback Mountain."

A chill ran down his spine, more disturbed about what that implied rather than what he'd actually said. "You've been watching me."

"Of course I've been watching you, you moron. You think I'm going to let someone like you out of my sights?" He gave him an incredulous look. "What kind of king would I be without spies everywhere."

"Well, Varys. Take your little birdies and get out of my sight."

Crowley waited a few moments. "Little lesson: when you're threatening someone, there's supposed to be an actual threat."

"I don't think it needs to be said really. You saw what happened to the last demon that tried to play queen of the castle." He walked past him, going back inside and towards the break room.

"Look, I know things got a little out of hand last time, but this time I can really make this worth your while."

Dean stopped with his hand on the door, looking partly over his shoulder at Crowley. The King of Hell grinned, walking over slowly.

"See? You miss it had fun, you and I. The freedom to live how you want; Kill who you want to kill, take what you want to take, go where you want to go. So what do you say, Dean? Shall we 'hit the road'?" Crowley was standing right behind him now.

Dean turned, looking down at him. He then pointed to the sign on the door and went through into the break room, slamming the door in Crowley's face. He frowned and read it, 'staff only. So piss off.'

Crowley sighed heavily. "Alright then... plan B."

Jake looked at Dean carefully when he came into the room, clearly he was fuming. Jake just handed him the coffee without saying a word. They stood in silence for a while, just enjoying the warm drink as jake waited for the fire in Dean's eyes to cool.

"When you came in here asking for a job. I turned you down. You know why?"

Dean looked at him suddenly and then shook his head.

"There was something in your eyes. It's the same look my brother Phil had when he came back from Afghan. It was a look that told me he'd been through hell, and he wasn't sure who to hate for it. He couldn't hate the people he was fighting, they were just following orders like he was. He couldn't hate his government, they were just doing what they thought was right. So do you know who his hate turned on?"

"Everyone around him?" Dean said quietly.

"Himself. He would sit alone in his house for days on end, pushing everyone away and when something tiny went wrong, he'd explode. He'd smash up the place and then drink away the guilt he felt for doing it." Jake perched on the end of the counter, watching Dean's face. "I saw that exact same look in you. I thought, here's a guy who's been through hell and hates himself for things he couldn't control. Yeah, he's probably done some things he's not proud of, but we all do stuff wrong. I mean, we're not angels."

Dean laughed slightly. "They're not perfect as they would have you think."

"You know what I mean. But then I saw you on the edge of town. Kathy Harris' truck had broken down and you stopped and fixed it for her. I watched you fix that car like it was a wounded bird, and I saw the anger in your eyes dim. Then I knew..." Jake nodded philosophically. "Then I knew you'd work for less than the minim wage and not be mad about it."

Dean laughed, shaking his head.

"You can say it."

"You're an ass, Jake."

Jake grinned, walking past him and patting him on the shoulder. "Love you too, kiddo." He paused in the doorway. "And if that british dick shows up again, tell me and I'll kick his ass."

"Thanks, man." Dean rubbed his forehead, feeling himself relax.

"You're not in trouble are you, Dean?" He frowned in concern.

"No, no. I'm fine." Dean smiled slightly, nodding.

"Alright. Then get back to work, this isn't daycare." Jake vanished up into his office.

Dean smiled slightly, finishing his coffee and then doing as he was told.

When Dean got home, Castiel was sitting on the sofa, looking out the window. He frowned slightly.

"Cas... what do you do when I'm away?"

The angel looked at him. "I... wait for you to come back."

Dean smiled slightly.

"You've got muck on your nose."

He sighed as his face dropped and he made his way to the kitchen.

"Is that weird?"

"No... it's nice." He patted his shoulder before carrying on. "What do you fancy for dinner, then?"

"Whatever you feel like making." Castiel leaned back, watching him out the corner of his eye.

"Make?" Dean laughed dramatically. "There's a pizza place that do deliveries. Wait, you don't really eat do you? It just tastes like molecules or something."

Cas shifted slightly uncomfortably. "Yes. Because that's what food tastes like to angels... no food for me. I'm an angel."

Dean leaned back slowly, looking at him from around the wall. "Cas?"

"I'm tired. I think I'll go upstairs and rest. See you in the morning, Dean." He got up and quickly made his way up stairs. Dean watched him go, frowning deeply.

"Um... okay?"

Later that night, Castiel was laying on his side in his bed, looking out the window at the tree line beyond. He was curled up, the duvet up to his nose. His grace was gone, even his stolen grace had worn out. I couldn't even hear angel radio. He was alone. There had always been the voices of his family in his head, discussing their day, giving and receiving orders, or otherwise just chatting. It was a comfort to him to know that they were always there. He thought they always would be, but now he was truly cut off. He closed his eyes, ignoring the familiar hunger and fell asleep. Suddenly, he was dreaming. He was in Metatron's office, looking at the shattered pieces of the angel tablet on the floor. Yet again he had destroyed the words of his father for humanity... For Dean. The image fluttered like turning the page in a book to another, more horrifying scene. Metatron's true form was looming over him; all thirty of his wings stretched out, casting a shadow over the cowering angel. His eyes glowed a demonic red as he spoke, his voice echoing yet quiet. It was like a whisper over a still river.

"Ahh…so Gadreel bites the dust. And the Angel Tablet, arguably the most powerful instrument in the history of the universe, is in pieces and for what again? Oh, that's right… to save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but ultimately, it was all about saving one human, right? Well, guess what?"

Castiel wanted to wake up, he didn't want to hear the words again. He didn't want to be reminded.

"He's dead, too."

There is was. The crashing agony that rippled over him like a relentless storm.

Castiel knew what it meant to die with the mark. Dean wasn't dead, he was lost. What would awaken in the bunker in a few hours would not be the man he had sacrificed everything for, and would again. It would be a demon, and not just a mutated human soul, twisted and torn to fit Lucifers idea of the perfect solider. But a true, pure demon. One who's only drive was to follow orders and kill as many living things as possible. A being of rage and vengeance, and everything Dean had been taught to think was evil. Above everything else, demons were the true evil that Dean wanted dead and gone. And now he was one of them. Castiel's heart broke. He knew Sam would try to save him, but he would not be able to do it. The pieces of Dean that made him the sarcastic, quirky man that had so much love for everyone he met that he would feel it as a personal defeat if something were to happen to them, those pieces were gone. Only the angry, sacred little boy that John Winchester had created would be left. As he felt the familiar sense of tears in his eyes, he sent out what would be his final message through angel radio.

Dean Winchester is lost.

Castiel jumped awake to the sound of someone knocking on the door and quickly wiped his eyes.

"Dean?" He said, looking toward the sound.

It opened and Dean came inside carrying a plate of pizza and a glass of water for him. He smiled cautiously. "I figured you'd be hungry." He spoke softly, putting it down on the bedside table for him.

Castiel looked at it and then at him. He knew. Of course he knew he was no longer an angel. He didn't say it, because it didn't matter to him what Cas was. All that mattered was he was Cas, and he needed him. His vision went a little blurry and his throat went tight. Dean looked at him in surprise.

"It's just pizza, Cas."

He half laughed, and then hugged his knees, covering his face as he started to sob. Dean felt a wave of something tender wash over him and he sat down on the bed next to Cas, half hugging him. He let him cry. He'd almost forgotten that the last couple of years hadn't just been hard for him. Castiel had lost so much, yet he had to stay strong for Sam when Dean had gone. He'd filled the role John had given Dean without question, knowing it was what he would have wanted.

Dean closed his eyes. "I'll be your wings, Cas."