I did say updates would be sooner, did I not? And lookie here, an extra long chapter for you guys! All that yummy angst and co-dependency and homoerotic subtext, just for you! Don't say I never do anything for you guys. I slaved away over this, so I hope ya'll like it!

Oh I still have no beta and add my terrible editing skills, all mistakes are minesies!

Disclaimers always the same. No extra blasphemous warnings. Oh, some lyrics have been altered for content! On with the show! ;)

~8~

Sam strolled back into the house blissed out and utterly unable to get rid of the giddy smile currently taking over his face. Of course, the first law of the Winchester handbook was not to be happy.

"And just where have you been, huh?" Dean practically growled from the kitchen. Sam's feet stuttered to a hesitant stop. The younger hunter's usually pin-point senses were currently overridden by Gabriel and thus he could neither see the way the air practically crackled with tension around Dean nor that he did not have any chance of not making it worse. Once Dean was set on a fire and brimstone worthy tantrum there was no stopping him. Sam was pretty sure that was where Newton's "immovable object and unstoppable force" idea came from.

But, you couldn't say he didn't try. "I was just speaking with Gabriel. He says–"

Dean snorted with disgust. "You just up an' leave to go talk to just another dick with wings, no explanation or anything. This is just like Ruby." He shook his head as rage filled Sam's eyes.

"How dare – Gabe is nothing like her! Just because you have serious man issues with Cas doesn't mean you get to just walk in on my happiness and –"

"Man Issues? Don't you put this on me. This has nothing to do with me. This is all about you and your problem with responsibility!" Dean spluttered indignantly, vein pulsing rather disturbingly in his forehead.

"Responsibility! Responsibility for what?" Sam sneered, "The apocalypse? News flash Dean, I couldn't have done it without you!"

Dean crushed the hurt, the excruciating agony that ripped through his chest like Hellhounds claws, and settled for the more bearable fury coursing through his veins like fire.

"But if you had just listened –

"Why? Why, when you never listen to me? I am done, Dean. Done. Done with you, with your shit, with everything. Find me when you're ready to listen." With a final determined gaze Sam turned and left. Not once did he look back. Not once did Dean look away, even when he was out of sight, and the sound of the bedroom door slamming shook the walls.

Not even then, because Dean knew, knew like only an older brother could, that this time he had gone too far.

With shoulders ever-heavy with the weight of the world, Dean slumped into the nearest wooden chair, head in his hands, and his sigh leaving him with nothing but the headache pounding his brain and Sam's words like daggers in his heart.

~8~

Gabriel had a problem. Not like that one time in the 3rd century. That was merely a prank gone slightly wrong. That was nothing, nothing compared to the Empire State Building of a problem he had now.

Gabriel was happy.

Words could not begin to even cover the severity of this issue.

Over the millennia that he had existed, Gabriel had felt a lot of things: frustration, anger, loneliness, excitement, pride, and flirtatious but never, never actual happiness. He couldn't even remember what happiness felt like but he was pretty sure it looked a hell of a lot like Samuel Winchester.

And that, of course, scared the freakin' bah-loney outta him.

The way he saw it, Gabe had on only one path of existence since daddy dearest flew the coup, and it was a lonely one. An alone one. He was on his own for a reason, he'd run away with his tail between his legs and sure, maybe now he was helping out Team Free Will in the pissing contest that was Mike and Lucy's attempt at an apocalypse, but that didn't even begin to scrape away the grime of his cowardice. Because that's what it was, running away, it was cowardice. Then he'd thought it was emancipation. Though, then at least the only person he'd been hurting was himself.

Now there was Sam.

Gabriel was the worst kind of masochist; he unintentionally hurt others with him. Sam didn't deserve that kind of baggage, hell, the kid had more than enough. Sam didn't deserve the damaged goods that was Gabriel. So, there was really only one thing to decide.

Did he stick around long enough to say goodbye?

~8~

Castiel had a predicament. As with most of his predicaments of late, it involved Dean Winchester. Well, revolved around to be precise.

The issue was that the longer he was with Dean, the less he was able to control his (steadily more and more confusing) emotions in regards to the hunter, the more Dean was in danger in the traceable presence of a "rebelling" angel, and the worse the charged atmosphere between them got.

It simultaneously created fog in his mind and added more pressure in his chest.

Losing pieces of his Grace everyday made him more and more human and something he had come to understand was that humans, so unlike angels, experienced everything. It was as if Castiel had been existing with blinders, ear and nose plugs, and wrapped in plastic. It was different experiencing the mortal plane as something other than an angel, to say the least.

It was sensory overload. Colours leaking, sounds sneaking, sensations squeezing through the carefully constructed angelic barricade. Humanity was sometimes predictable, it would never give up, it would always find a way inside; it was inevitable.

Very much like the outcome of Castiel's predicament. And it was this, more than anything, that had a song swelling in the air around him, had his wings take him to Dean, but keep him cloaked. Because sometimes, like the issues of the heart, the words needed to be said most were not heard by those who needed to hear them.

(Warning: Destiel feels imminent. Prepare for thunderstorms. Read/sing at own risk.)

You still carry your Hell inside

You keep pretending, but you just can't hide

I know I said I'd be standing by your side

But I

Castiel sighed. Dean was on the couch, feet propped up on some books (probably the ones he was meant to be reading), and watching television. It was nice to see him like this, like he used to. To watch him unhurried, to take in every detail, every curve of lip, every smattering of freckles, every surface, plane, and crevasse that he had rebuilt. Now Dean always seems to notice his stares and became agitated or aggravated. Castiel tilted his head, silently regarding his human.

Your paths unbeaten and it's all uphill

And you can meet it but you never will

There's a reason that you're standing still

But I

He absently pulled at the cuffs of his coat. His sorrow and frustration manifested themselves in the crease between his brow and the down-turned corners of his lips.

I wish I could say the right words to lead you through this land

Wish I could be the lover and take you by the hand

Wish I could stay here but now I understand

I'm standing in the way

Castiel didn't fidget. Though through exposure or osmosis he had picked up characteristics. And of course, they're all Dean's. Even so, he barely caught himself before he was running his fingers through his hair.

The cries inside you, they make you fall

Because you're broken, you can barely crawl

So you'll just lie there when you should be standing tall

But I

Regret pulsed within Castiel's veins like blood, it seeped into his Grace, and spread to his heart. Unconsciously, he moved forwards, breaths from the hunter who stared straight through him to the television screen behind.

I wish I could lay your arms down and let you rest at last

Wish I could smite your demons but you cling to your past

Wish I could stay here, your stalwart standing fast

But I'm standing in the way

I'm just standing in the way.

It was now or never. He could either stay with Dean, increase his chances of being in danger or leave and continue the fight at a safe distance. But first he had to say the words that burned as bright as Grace.

Stealing himself, Cas made himself corporeal, summoned the words and courage, and was promptly interrupted by the man himself, "Castiel, mind moving your feathery ass? You're standing in the way of Dr. Sexy."

Castiel, with his limited human emotional knowledge, was pretty sure that this was what it felt like for the heart to metaphorically break.

~8~

Sam made sure the door slammed so hard he heard the groaning protest of its hinges. The anger that had been burrowing beneath his skin and spreading like hellfire had dissipated, leaving behind only trails of ash and a familiar deep-seated ache – the one that came with things like John and Dean and Jess. A masochistic dichotomy of guilt, betrayal, and sadness that seemed to crowd him like pouring rain. Sighing, he moved to the window and watched as Gabe and Cas sat talking on the Impala, and something seemed to swell in his chest. It started low in his stomach then moved higher and higher, a kind of uncomfortable heat, and before he knew it sombre guitar chords were in the very air around him and lyrics were falling from his lips.

(Sasquatch feels. Also, plot twist imminent.)

Does anybody notice? He backed away from the window and ran a shaky hand through his hair.

Does anybody even, care?

In the sudden stillness, Sam turned on the spot and amidst the violent crescendo of screeching violins and extreme close-ups, a demon stood smirking across the room.

"But more of that and on," it murmured, voice like acidic velvet. Sam's rather clever brain barely had time to register that this was no ordinary demon before he was engulfed with black smoke and the world faded to a distant memory.

~8~

My first cliffhanger! It's like a rite of passage, right? Now I can join the Cool Writers Club, yes?

As always, I would love love love to hear from you guys. Stay tuned! xx