On a cold Tuesday night outside a bar in Houston, waiting for a cupid:

Dean stood to attention beside Castiel.

He was certain his insides were being liquefied. At least that's what all this felt like. His mind screamed at him with worry about Sam. He trusted Sam. He knew he could get the job done but by God did he want to be by his side, watching out for his little brother. Crowley was a slippery motherfucker.

If that anxiety wasn't enough to turn him into a gooey mess, Castiel had just told him he was leaving for good this time. Dean pressed down hard on his sparking grief. Sacrifices had to be made. They were closing Heaven and Hell. If they succeeded they would save countless lives. If Castiel didn't make it, Dean's heart would be ripped, if Sam didn't, there would be nothing of Dean left to rip.

Castiel's coat moved in the corner of Dean's eye. He raised his head expecting the cupid to exit the bar. He had been surprised at the barkeep and Rod's epic love. They didn't look the type.

"How about the next one's on me?" Dean remembered that Paul said that when it was his turn to buy. Was that what he and Paul looked like to the elderly patrons in Geary's? Minus the beards, beer guts and caps, but it was kind of cool.

ET was going home. Dean hadn't cried at ET. He was too small. He only remembered his mother's soft hand in his hair and his own hand on her rounded belly telling the baby that ET was sad. Castiel had not understood the reference. Dean's second eye roll at the recent memory was as half-hearted as his last effort. Still sometimes Castiel got pop culture. They had made a sweet good cop bad cop when giving the angel tablet to Kevin. Dean had been inappropriately turned on by Cas's growling voice and his tendency to digress when mid-intimidating-rant.

If they plucked the bow from the cupid angel-lady, would Castiel vanish to try and find Metatron and the task of the third trial? If he did and he completed it, would he even come to say goodbye? Had that beer just now, been their last chance to talk? Dean still hadn't told him about the love thing. If this was it, he never would.

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Earlier:

You take your heart and your essence and you lay them bare. You impregnate those four letters with meaning but can't bring yourself to risk any more words to explain your sorrow, your urgency, your need for him. He isn't angry with you now but you sense the rage as been shelved. You stare at the neck of the beer bottle hoping that when the cupid appears you will be touched by their grace, it will bolster yours as it continues to slip away, and you will find the courage to speak more than, "Dean."

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Later:

Where did it all go so wrong?

Castiel sat on his haunches by the lake and watched his brothers and sisters falling from the sky. He could imagine the celestial frequency of screaming shock and agony, but he was no longer connected to it. When the traitor Metatron has stolen his last vestige of grace, it had not hurt. There was so little left after his final jump to Heaven that Castiel was surprised the light could even fill the receptacle.

Another wave of the fallen plummeted to earth like meteors. Castiel remembered the night the young planet was dusted with asteroids and space rocks. He was young too then. Samael had taken him to see the beauty of the sight. The archangel was so proud of the planet and the personal effort his Father had permitted him to take with the burning rock destined to hold life. Samael had pointed out to Castiel where he intended to flood the ground with water and how Father himself had designed the tectonic movement of the crust over the molten centre. As the light show slowed, Samael had confessed to the young seraph, that the planet was his favorite creation and he cherished it dearly. What would he make of it now? Did he and Michael even know what was happening from their infernal prison?

Castiel was pulled from his reminiscing by the shivering of his body. He was cold. The night was chill. The traces of humanity that he had recently experienced had not prepared him for the full sensation. He felt an ache in his stomach. Hunger at a higher pitch than a desire for some miso and norimaki. He pulled his coat tight around him and wondered where he was. He could be anywhere. His angelic GPS was lost. Wondering if his ability to converse with different nations was also a thing of the past he wet his lips and tried.

"Bonjour Dean."

"Tansi Dean."

"Merhaba Dean."

"Goedendag Dean."

Satisfied he would be able to converse with the native inhabitants of this place, Castiel pulled himself upright. His muscles protested which was annoying and distracting. Metatron was a louse. He was worse than an imp of hell. He was a dirty sneak. He was a sneering thief who had played Castiel.

"I should have listened to Dean." Castiel chided himself aloud.

Metatron was all those things but he was also wrong. He told Castiel to live a life with a wife and children and condescendingly instructed him to come and tell his story when he died. Did he think Castiel would not remember? Perhaps he had thought it would be like after the leviathan when he was Emmanuel, but Castiel had experienced a slow fall, one with his memories even to the days of creation, retained. The times Naomi had stolen from him had not been retrieved. They remained lost to her interference. Castiel did not grieve for her, but she was his sister and her final plea to him and Dean spoke in her favor.

The tree line was thinning. Castiel thought he knew where he was. He wasn't in Norway or Russia like he imagined. He could hear the distant shout:

"Sam, Don't you give up on me! You listen to me. CASTIEL! CASTIEL! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

Castiel's mouth dried up. His heart pounded and in synch he pounded his feet into the ground. He pushed his fully human body for all it was worth, reaching towards Dean's voice.

"CAS?"

He was nearly there. Close enough now to hear Sam's pained words of awe as the angels continued to fall. Close enough to see Dean's head tilt back against the car, Sam tucked in beside him. Close enough to hear Dean pray.

"Dear God, don't let him be some clueless infant somewhere! How will I find him then, you divine bastard?"

Castiel ignored the blasphemy and wondered if his siblings were going to land as babies, infants taken in by human families. Aniel had fallen thus. He added his own, perhaps futile, prayer that they would be taken care of.

He broke the tree line, stumbling over a gnarled root. Dean's eyes were still skyward. It was Sam who saw him first.

The younger Winchester tugged at Dean's sleeve. Castiel could see that Sam was all grey skin and bathed in sweat. Dean turned his gaze and said tenderly, "What is it Little Brother? You holding on there, Sammy?"

Sam lifted his arm as if it was weighed down by an anvil and pointed at the former angel.

Dean's head turned as if in slow motion. Castiel could see his gulp in the movement of his throat. Dean's right fist clenched in the dirt, and Castiel thought for a nano-second that he was going to be punched and called out for his role in the fireworks show. But Dean mouthed his name. Sam pushed him away from the car and said "Go, Dean. Go on, I'll survive without your arm wrapped around me for a few minutes."

Castiel had closed the distance between them but his steps faltered. Distracted by the roar of an angel landing within a few miles of their location, Castiel found himself wrapped in Dean's embrace.

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare leave me like that again. What happened to you? Have you fallen too?"

Castiel chuffed a laugh with no humor. "Like Samael of old I was the first to fall." He pulled Dean tighter to him, soaking in the heat radiating from the hunter's body, "Naomi is dead. Metatron killed her. You were right. He betrayed us all. He stole the last of my grace as it was the final act of his spell to do this." Castiel tilted his head back to the sky.

"You're human?"

Castiel nodded, his hand strayed up to the back of Dean's neck and he pulled the man forward so that their foreheads touched and their breath mingled.

"You remember, right Cas? You remember everything?"

"From the dawn of time all the way to you Dean." Castiel moved his hand to Dean's arm, where their bond mark should still be.

"I'm still pissed with you." Dean muttered.

"I know."

"You never listen to me."

"I know."

"You vanished again and Sammy nearly died."

"I know."

"He might still die." Dean's voice broke.

"He won't."

"How do you know?"

"We won't allow it."

"We won't allow it." Dean repeated. "Damn right we won't. Come on Cas, let's get Sammy home."

"Home?"

"Yeah, you are coming home aren't you? You aren't running off to save angel babies or anything?" Dean stepped back distancing himself.

"Yes, Dean, I'm coming home."

"Good. Give me a hand lifting Sam's giant prissy ass into the backseat."

"I have no 'mojo' as you call it. I cannot transport him. I am of no use to you." Castiel bit his lip, confessing his fear aloud.

"Dumbass, I know your juice is spilled. I meant you take one shoulder and I'll get him under the other and we can haul him upright."

"Hey, Hey, douches I'm right here." Sam could barely speak but he tried to use the Impala to stand. Both other men dashed over and caught him before he slipped back to the ground. "Crowley?"

"Fuck Crowley, I don't give a freaking damn about the turd." Dean tugged the back door open.

"I should check..." Sam's voice gave out and he leaned more body weight on Castiel.

"You are gravely ill." Castiel told him.

"No shit Sherlock." Sam rolled his eyes, but let them ease him into the bench seat.

"You want a blanket?" Dean asked.

"You mean the one still covered in Castiel's blood. No thanks."

"Prissy Princess." Dean laughed. "See Cas I told you."

Castiel looked at Dean not quite understanding his joke.

"That. See that expression." Dean took a step closer, "That is you. Angel or not angel. It does something to me here." Dean beat once on his chest with his palm. "You listen to me Cas. Don't you change. I don't mean not to grow or learn new stuff and I do mean listen to me when I tell you shit. But don't go drowning your sorrows in drugs and stuff, or trying to change your personality, or turning all cringing with human guilt and apologies."

"I have enough angelic guilt and regret."

"Well get fucking used to it, cause being human is full of regret and mistakes and fucking heartache" Dean called as he moved to the driver's door.

"You make it sound miserable." Castiel intoned. "I do remember from before, when we were fighting the apocalypse."

"Yeah but this time you grace is vamoosed? Yeah?"

"Yeah. Gone, permanently." Castiel took shotgun while Dean slid into his seat.

Dean twisted round to check on his brother. Sam was drifting into a fitful sleep or coma. Dean hoped it wasn't a coma. He couldn't do much until they were home. "Keep a check on him Cas. Lean back every so often and make sure he's not running a fever. There is water and pain meds in the glove box."

"I will do that."

"Good. Good. So what does it feel like?"

"Losing my grace?"

Dean nodded as he put the Impala into reverse.

"It was painful and depressing." Castiel paused to gather his thoughts. "... and empting but the initial burst of pain was intense, you know, you were there."

"What?"

"When I picked up the angel tablet and disobeyed Naomi in refraining from taking your life."

"Are you saying that the angel tablet broke your grace?" Dean glanced at Castiel as he stalled the car before taking the turn onto the highway.

"No." Castiel's brow furled in confusion. How did Dean not know this? "When I chose you."

"What Castiel? Listen to me here. You are going to have to fill me in on this logic of yours. Cause all this is news to me."

Castiel licked his lips again. He looked back to check that Sam was unconscious. The younger brother was out cold, but his breathing was even and his face relaxed in sleep.

"I chose you over heaven. I made my decision. The grace was being purged from my system every day. It was only a matter of time. Metatron stole the last few weeks of my angelic existence from me."

"You chose me?"

"I did."

"Over heaven?"

"Over everything."

"But you didn't come to me. I was praying to you." Dean's grip tightened on the wheel.

Castiel risked laying a hand on Dean's shoulder like he would if he was about to transport them.

"I couldn't. I didn't know if I would lead Naomi to you. I would put you in danger and might not have been able to defend you with my reduced powers. And I thought I would disgust you."

"Cas?"

Oh Lord in Heaven; was this hot stream of salty liquid sliding down his cheeks and into his mouth, what crying was? "I was right. I did disgust you. You hated me when I returned."

"Cas. No. I was angry. Angry and hurt. I was worried about you. I thought you could have been dead. I thought you'd stayed away ignoring me, ignoring Sam and me when we needed you. Then Sam told me you had visited but not stayed to see me. I was hitting out. I'm not an emotions expert you know."

"Join the club." Castiel intoned.

Dean laughed. "Did you just make a joke?"

"I might have."

"You'll be quoting movies at me next."

Castiel whispered full of trepidation that he was about to be kicked out of the car "I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone. I choose a mortal life."

"What Cas?"

"It is from the Fellowship of the Ring."

"I know that." Dean lifted a hand from the wheel and placed it over the one still resting on his shoulder. "Not all those who wander are lost." He pressed down on Castiel's newly warm skin.

"What?"

"All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost? Did you not watch the movies, read the book?"

"There is a book?"

"Honestly you are priceless." Dean laughed and returned his hand to the wheel. Castiel felt its absence. "How's Sammy doing?"

Castiel removed his own hand and his seatbelt to twist back and feel Sam's forehead. "The same I think Dean. I can't see his molecular structure anymore."

"Huh? That must be different for you."

"It is."

"Are you ok, man? Like were you injured in the fall?"

"No. I am fine. I believe I am experiencing a moderate to high level of hunger."

Dean gave a slight disbelieving head shake. "Glove box. Energy bars. I'll take one too."

Castiel unwrapped the fruit filled bars and passed one to Dean. "Can I ask you something Dean?"

Dean muttered his assent around the bar.

"Your boyfriend, will he..."

Dean spluttered pieces of macerated bar all over his clothes. He coughed and spat up a piece logged in his throat. "Jesus Christ."

Castiel flinched at the Lord's name being used as a profanity.

Dean scrubbed a morsel of chewed dough off the windscreen. "Cas. I... fuck... I don't know what to say."

"Dean?" Sam's wheezing saved his brother from continuing, "Did I sleep?"

"Yeah," Dean called back, "Sleeping freaking beauty. Cas here is my sidekick Pinocchio made a real boy, and I'm Buzz Lightyear."

"Naw haw, Dean you're Bambi." Sam slurred.

"Am freaking not Sammy." Dean risked turning his head but Sam was already dropping back to sleep.

"I see you more as Perdita the Dalmatian." Castiel mused looking at Dean with his sideways head tilt.

"You have been catching up on cinema. Ahem you do realize that you just called me a bitch." Dean rolled his eyes. "That makes you Pongo."

"Those dogs would go through anything for their family. I found the feature inspiring."

Dean squeezed Castiel's leg. "Family is all that matters, and Sam comes first no matter what. Right Cas?"

Castiel enjoyed the sound of the engine, the sky now clear of falling angels and the way Dean's hand lingered on his thigh.