In case you were wondering, I meant for this to be a simple one-shot. And now it's gonna be something much, much longer...bear with me and review!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits. Warnings: may contain spoilers for post-end of the world, I haven't seen season five or four through yet and so also may be slightly AU. Some language. Mentions of past Dean/Castiel with brief details. Sad-eventual-happy!fic (character death).

Castiel sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, trying to get rid of the weird feeling. He felt it stick more, deeper against the walls of his insides. It was uncomfortable, like feeling something that you swallowed live try to crawl its way back out, but painless. "Anna," he growled, twisting around in his prison, as if he could Summon her with his voice. Granted, he used his Grace to put a bit of a Command into it, but, last he checked, she was still more powerful that he was. "Anna, I don't understand!"

He felt a zap inside his brain, winced, and the usual conversation or singing he could hear tuned in and out. When it turned back on, it sounded scratchy and grating and didn't even sound like a language at all. He was almost glad when he stopped hearing it, giving him a moment to compose himself before it would come back just as harsh again.

He grit his teeth, jaw tense and grinding, as it came back on but it sounded different. There was a wheezy quality to it. He focused on the breathy voice in the background. De- Wi...ster. Ear-. De- Win...ster. Earth. It didn't make any sense, it sounded just as broken as everything else he heard but it gave him a headache just trying to focus on it.

Castiel took another deep breath and closed his eyes tight, centring himself. This was important, this was God's work. It had to be. So it was nothing he couldn't handle, or otherwise he wouldn't have been chosen. He had to have Faith.

He focused again as it tuned back on, this time sounding slightly underwater but a lot easier to stand. The same voice was in a far away corner, deep and hidden. He got the sense that this was a mission best kept to himself. Dean. Winch...ster. Earth. Find. Dean. Winch...ster. Earth.

And then, all was right. The angels returned to singing and conversing with no watery, breathy or scratchy undertones of any kind. It was as if the whole situation never happened. He frowned and tried to make sense of it. Earth and Find were easy to make out, and then what appeared to be a name.

Anna's breath stirred inside him almost painfully and he felt his eyes begin to soften and glisten for no reason. His whole body was trembling softly now and a very unpleasant, dark feeling rose to catch in his throat. No amount of swallowing would force it away. He scowled and decided he did not like this feeling, did not like what Anna did to him and most certainly would not like this mission to find this stupid, lowly human.

Dean. His mind supplied almost reverently for him. A vague notion in the back of his head seemed familiar with it- him. He paused thoughtfully, cocking his head to the side as he always did when he encountered a quandary of some sort. His tongue slowly darted out to wet his lips and-

"Dean." Castiel stated it as simply as one angel could state anything and yet an electrical touch ran up his spine and his wings tried to strain every feather as if they could somehow reach the person. He shivered and smiled before he could catch himself. The odd sensation to Sing was beginning to overwhelm him and he, like the majority, never did so without a great cause. He decided that he rather liked this feeling, could get used to what Anna did and would probably enjoy this mission to find him. Find Dean.

His wings twitched with a burst of energy and he trilled a Song to himself. He almost hummed it, so quiet he remained, even though constant vibrations were being sent up his spine to make his wings flutter even more. The happiest of angels were the ones who flew, displaying their wings like peacocks, without any need to.

It was an unusual Song, as all Songs are unique, because he felt so pleased and yet he was weeping and mourning something along with it. Eventually, his Voice wavered and he hung his head to continue to silently mourn whatever it was.

"Well, what do ya idjits think of that?"

Dean and Sam both looked up from the books thay were rifling through at the sound of Bobby's voice. They both looked tired and haggard, having been up for twenty-two hours searching for anything that could explain the weird even for them phenomenon happening, but Dean carried the brunt of it. It had been a year since Castiel returned to Heaven and no matter what they did, nothing got rid of the dark cloud over his face.

"Hey...hey, Dean, you alright?" Sam asked shooting a look back at Dean from turning around to view the sky. It was raining like the worst thunderstorm, you could barely differentiate between the sky and the rain and there was no thunder or lightning. Just pure rain.

Dean scoffed, turning his head to the side and out of either of their views, his lips twitched into a feeble smile for a few moments. "He- um, Cas..." he shook his head again. "He used to tell me that when an angel cried, truly, truly cried, it would..." his voice broke and a single glint rolled down his cheek before he wiped it away.

"Dean..." Sam whispered brokenly.

"I'm fine, Sammy," he sniffed, wiping his nose too. "I am. Seriously. I just...I need to find him, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know. I get it," his brother said sighing, and returning to their books and hoping for Dean's sake that their newest lead didn't turn out to be nothing again.

Castiel's wounds reopened and he began to bleed again. Small, slow droplets that clung to his skin as they fell. He watched them with a faint sense of idleness.

"Castiel."

"Anna," he greeted in kind, though giving her a respectful inclined nod as well. "Your breath lives on,"

"Good," she took slower steps forward this time, like she had the time to debate every movement. "I was worried it might not stick in time. But I guess I underestimated his influence on you, he seems to stick just fine."

"Why are you here?" he asked once she was as close as she had been before.

"Why do you keep trying to forget?" she countered, cupping his face in her hands. "He is important, the world needs him again-"

"I need him and I don't want to!" He spat, interrupting her as tendrils of furious rage and hurt choking his patience and the words he should have said. He ripped his head out of her hands, ashamed, sheepish, confused, embarrassed for his display. "I apologise. I do not know what came over me,"

"No." Anna slowly turned his head around, back to looking into her eyes. They seemed colder than he last remembered, but then again, he had forgotten quite a few things as of late. "This is good. We need you to feel again, to become as human as an angel can get without Falling. You must not Fall," her fingers dug into his cheek and he grunted as her breath stung when it coiled inside his midsection, mingling with the other piece as if warmly greeting a brother.

"You must find Dean Winchester. Do not fail us." She released him and he gasped at the fire that burned him where her touch was previously. Tears stung his eyes at the physical torment. This was worse than any angel Punishment he had been put through and that did not sit well with him. "Let that be a reminder, this is your last chance, brother."

"Indeed, Anna, this is something I will not forget so easily."

Dean screamed, thrashing wildly and pulling on his chains. His wrists were bleeding after being rubbed raw from the rope knotted around them. Invisible whips cracked upon his skin with a wasp's sting and he could feel the blood pool underneath him. The dirty sheets soaked it up like the desert drank water, forever stained from all the blood he spilt every time he slept. "God help me!" He yelled into the ceiling. "Cas!"

Sam rushed into the room, grabbing onto the doorway to stop himself from sliding into the wall. "Dean?" he sighed. "Dammit Dean!" He walked slowly over to his brother and gently shook him awake. "Come on, come on Dean, snap out of it," Dean's mossy eyes flashed recognition at him and he laid his hand on Sam's cheek as tears fell freely on his own.

"Sammy," his voice cracked. He grinned brightly and patted his cheek. "Thank god, thank god it's you, Sammy!" He sat up as much as his restraints would allow. "Listen, I've got a new lead on him. You, you just gotta cut me out and all we have to do-"

Sam shook his head. "No, Dean. We can't. Not anymore,"

The light died in his eyes. "What...what d'you mean, Sam?"

Sam fixed him a serious look, unwavering as he stared deep into his brother's eyes and took a deep breath. "Dean. It's been twenty years. I'm done, I have a family," he laughed half-heartedly. "Hell, my daughter's turning eighteen tomorrow and- and graduating from high school soon. She's going to go to college, Stanford, Pre-law."

Dean licked his lips and actually looked at his brother. His hair was freshly cut, a little shorter than how he always had liked his curls, and it was starting to recede backwards. There were more lines on his face, though, thankfully, there were a lot more laugh lines. He wasn't so tense any more, not always on the lookout waiting for something to lurk right behind him. He put on some weight, too, not looking so lanky as he was before. There was pride in his eyes as he spoke, love, care, devotion. Tears blurred his vision again at what he missed out on, watching his brother have a normal life filled with as much apple pie as ex-hunters could get; living and not just surviving. "I didn't know you had a daughter," he said softly, a little unsure of what exactly to say. "You must be so proud..."

"Yeah, I am." Sam stated, deadpan.

Dean fumbled for a minute. "So, uh...they don't know?"

"They don't know, they won't know and they never will know. I won't let them be harmed, ever." Sam stood up. "That's why I can't help you, Dean, you have to help yourself. You've got to let go," he added at his confused look.

"Sam, I can't..." he choked out. "I have to."

Sam breathed through his nostrils, flaring them. "Don't think I don't know what this is about," he said quietly but packed full with anger. "I hear you, I hear you muttering late at night when you think everyone's asleep. You are bringing this on yourself," he jabbed the air furiously, clenching his jaw. "All this pain, all this suffering for nothing!"

"It's not for nothing!" Dean yelled back before he could stop himself.

"Every night, Dean. Every. Night. I watch my daughter sleep peacefully before I go to bed with my wife and every damn night at this same damn hour I have to come running to wake you up before you fucking kill yourself. Every damn night I have to explain to you and tend your wounds and convince you to fucking eat something and make you promise that you will stop this. Every night you tell me the same fucking lie. 'Of course, Sammy. I don't want to lose you, too'." He shook his head sadly and scoffed.

"Don't you think I'm tired of having to take care of my big brother? Don't you think I'm tired of constantly fearing for your fucking life that you don't seem to care about? You can't possibly think that you can bring him back to you, still. Why won't you just give up, Dean?"

"Because I still love him!" He roared. "Dammit, Sammy, I love him more than anything else and if I have to die before I can see him again, I will." His dead eyes said the truth of it all.

"Then why did you let him go?" Sam whispered. "Why did you hurt him?"

Dean turned his head away, biting his lip and shaking with the effort not to cry. He closed his eyes and god-damn that memory still fucking hurt! "Because I was a fucking stupid bastard, Sam," he whispered back. "That's it. And I pray every god-damn day that he will forgive me. Did you ever hear that?" He turned around back to look, but Sammy was gone and his rope had been cut free.