This chapter is dedicated to Ninjakittee... Betaing fics like a boss!

The decision to not tell Lisa anything about his celestial friend's visit was made fairly quickly.

First of all he had never even told her about Cas to begin with. She had no idea of any of the people that he had been acquainted with in his life as a hunter, other than his deceased brother. So what would he even say to her? My angel-buddy who rebelled against heaven to help me stop the apocalypse is about to be butchered by his own brothers. And yes, angels exist. He had a feeling that that wasn't going to cut it.

The problem was that he hadn't really spoken about any of it to her, at all. Of course he had been forced to give her some sketchy description of why the hell he had showed up on her doorstep twice, once to say goodbye and the second time to move in with her. She knew what had happened to Sam, well the rough outline anyway. And she knew that a lot of crap had happened to him; that something very big had gone down. But that was pretty much it.

It wasn't so much that he didn't want to talk about it, although that was also a huge factor, but more that he didn't want to put any unnecessary burdens on her. Having a surly, messed up alcoholic as a houseguest was bad enough. He didn't want to disturb her with all of his terrifying stories or make her worry that something like that could happen again.

Because it couldn't happen again. It wouldn't, not while he was still breathing. That was the only thing he was completely sure of.

On top of all that Dean couldn't deny there was also a small part of him that didn't really want to tell Lisa about Cas. The angel was an important part of his old life that he had not yet lost like everything else, even if that might soon be over. And even if their encounter had been darkened by the pain and sorrow that seemed to follow their lives wherever they went, there was still a remarkable sense of joy that he had felt upon seeing his friend again.

He couldn't really explain it, but somehow he was unable to shake the need to keep this entirely as his own for as long as he could. For as long as there was still something to keep.

So instead he slipped back into his casual mask of adopted cheerfulness and pretended to have been working in the garden the entire time, before helping her carry the grocery bags inside. They then spent their time with unpacking and putting away the various contents of the bags, while talking about how her morning had been until it was time to pick Ben up from school.

Not wanting to force himself onto the kid again so soon, Dean generously volunteered to stay at the house and take care of the rest while she drove out to get him. After having finished his self appointed task of setting the kitchen nicely in order, he violently squashed his need to get another beer from the fridge, telling himself that even though his life had just turned a hell of a lot more complicated again, this wouldn't make things better in the slightest. He managed to successfully leave the kitchen with empty hands a moment later, though loudly swearing all the way to the living room. Without a drink in his hands it seemed even more apparent that the hunter had no idea what to do with himself in this quiet house. He frickin' wasn't cut out for this! He couldn't peacefully sit at home and do nothing. Because the more intense the silence around him got, the more he was left alone with his thoughts… the more he really did feel like he was going crazy. There was no one here that could tell him it would all be ok. Nothing to distract him from the terrifying possibility that the fucking apocalypse might be set back in motion. Nothing to stop the burning pain in his chest from making him feel completely helpless.

That was only one of the many reasons why Dean was extremely relieved when he heard Lisa's car pull up again outside and he knew that his life would once more be brightened by the two radiant beings that managed to still keep him topside. He was greeted by a very cheerful, if still slightly guarded Ben and the warmth of a mother contended by her child's happiness. The afternoon then passed relatively uneventful with Lisa and Dean taking turns in helping Ben with his homework and Dean talking him into trying a video game together.

By the time they all sat down to have dinner, the hunter was surprised to find himself not exactly happy but oddly warm and comfortable inside, safe in the presence of his two luminous anchors. Lisa seemed to be quite satisfied at the fact that the two boys had found something to do together while she cooked dinner and Ben was the most talkative that he had ever been since Dean moved into their house.

"Ok, so we're going down the main street…" Ben enthusiastically told his mother after swallowing another bite of his meatloaf. "And Dean's telling me he can totally handle it"-

"Which I could!" Dean interrupted, playfully pointing his fork at the boy, making him roll his eyes in response.

"Yeah, right!" Ben responded in annoyance before going back to telling Lisa about a particularly fun moment in the game they had just been playing. "Ok, but I keep seeing him getting his ass whooped and then suddenly four more critters show up and we're surrounded!" Lisa raised her brows in amusement at her son's enthusiasm.

"So then I jump off the ledge and whoosh,"- his joined hands went through the air, mimicking a cutting movement –"I fly over this one dude and cut his head off!"

"That would never happen in real life, by the way," Dean murmured under his breath while taking a sip of water.

"Dean," Lisa told him off with a light-hearted smile. Thankfully Ben was so busy with telling his story that he hadn't listened to either of them, so he carried on as if uninterrupted.

"And while I'm still fighting, Dean shoots at the tank and BOOM!" He threw out his hands to mimic an explosion. "Blows 'em all up! That was sweet!"

"Pretty good team work!" Dean smirked at the beaming kid.

"All right, all right, finish your salad, Indiana Jones," Lisa chuckled, pointing at the green pile that was still lying untouched on the boy's plate. Ben sighed dramatically at his mother's indifference over the video game adventure and picked up his fork to continue eating.

"Did you guys do equally good team work on that math problem you were trying to solve earlier?" she then wanted to know.

Ben rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Mom!" he complained, mouth still full of salad.

"Sorry," she said, shooting him a stern look. "I'm not the one who got a hard time today in class. Isn't that what you told me?"

"Yeah, but that's not my fault!" Ben protested defensively. "It's Cadwallader! The bitch's got it in for me!"

"Ben, language!" Lisa immediately scolded him, her brow furrowing in discontent. Meanwhile Dean pretended to be very focused on his glass of water, subconsciously counting how many times he had possibly uttered the word or equally bad ones during the video game. He had always known he had a bad influence on kids. "And didn't you say the same thing about your chemistry teacher just last week?" she went on.

Ben didn't answer, but shoved his last few bites of salad into his mouth, sulking. "Well, like I told you with her, sweetie, it's not always the teacher's fault." Lisa shrugged. "Sometimes it's up to you."

"Actually…" Ben said, shoving his empty plate away. "Chemistry wasn't that bad today."

"Really?" This spiked both Lisa's and Dean's interest, leaving her looking highly skeptical while the latter tried to stifle a grin.

"Yeah," Ben shrugged. "Experiments were kinda interesting."

His mother chuckled in slight confusion. "Ok, well, that's good," she got up to gather the empty plates and carry them to the kitchen, not without lovingly running a hand through her son's hair. "You're already making progress!"

Taking advantage of Lisa's temporary absence, Dean leaned slightly toward Ben and smirked at him. "All right, who was it?"

Ben looked slightly taken aback at the older man's bold question. "Chem class," Dean specified, quirking his eyebrow at him. "Your interesting experiments, huh?"

He caught the corner of the boy's mouth twitch in amusement and after a few moments of indecision, he finally responded. "Sophie," he said with a slight smirk. "Blonde chick. We had to mix substances together."

A slight chuckle escaped Dean's throat at the boy's pleased expression. "That's my boy!"

Before either of them could say anything further, Lisa was back in earshot as she started placing small plates and dessert forks on the table. "What are you boys talking about?" She wanted to know.

"Baseball," both of them said at the same time. Ben shot Dean a look of surprise at their seemingly synchronized answers. Dean winked at him.

All other thoughts were forgotten for the time being as Dean's gaze fell upon their dessert, which Lisa set down in the middle of the table. "Remember this, Ben," he said, as he stared down at the beautifully baked cherry pie. "Your mom is awesome!"

. . .

Later that night, after Lisa had already put Ben to bed and decided to turn in herself, Dean found himself venturing down the stairs onto the first floor of the house once more. At first he didn't even know where he was going, it was like his feet had decided to move without his brain giving the command. But when he had finally reached his destination, it became obvious that it was what he had been longing for all evening.

He stared at the liquor cabinet in front of him, feeling an increasing amount of frustration with himself that he had not been able to quench his unhealthy craving. But what was he supposed to do? He was actually quite proud of himself that he had made it this long without a drink, especially after the utterly unusual morning he had had. With a bitter sigh he poured himself a glass of hunter's helper and immediately took a big gulp, feeling it soothe his jumbled mind.

Glass in hand he paced through the living room for a few moments until finally coming to a halt in front of the same window that he had this very morning. His eyes almost instantly fixed on a specific spot in the now leafless yard, the spot where the angel had appeared behind him hours earlier.

It seemed almost surreal to him now, like it had all been some weird dream or something. Perhaps a different kind of nightmare that was supposed to drive him insane. He was surprised at how strangely inviting that thought seemed to him. However, he naturally knew that it had not been a dream, because at the core it all made sense. He should've figured the feathery sons of bitches were not gonna leave it at this and it pained him that he had not seen it coming early enough to avoid all the panic that he was suppressing now. But what was worse… he would never have seen this coming for Cas. Not after he had so wonderfully been brought back by the big man himself.

Before even consciously realizing what he was about to do, Dean opened his voice to speak softly. "Cas," The words escaped his mouth without him even noticing. "You listening up there?"

He fidgeted with his glass while trying to find the right words. "I know I kinda gave you a hard time today… Sorry bout that." The guy had come down here to ask him for help after he found out that he was most likely to be ganked by his own brothers the next day and all the hunter had been able to do for him was yell. Real smooth, Dean.

"Listen…" Dean murmured, looking out at the night sky since he had little other indicators of where Cas might be at the moment. "You know I'm not good at saying these sort of things. Sammy always wanted me to man up… Get it off my chest. But that was more his thing, you know?"

The hunter chuckled sadly at the mention of his little brother. It would be a brutal understatement to say that Dean missed him. He could barely live without him. His constricted chest winced in agreement. But that was for another time. This was not about Sammy, it was about Cas. Cas and his stupid habit of throwing himself in front of a train for those he cared about, a habit he had very displeasingly decided to adopt from Dean.

"I know I said that I'm all right," he went on struggling with his own voice. "It's… it's what I always say. The truth is I'm not." He was pissed off at himself for how hoarse his voice suddenly sounded. He was sure as hell not gonna be one of those pansy-ass douchebags who broke out in tears while praying. "I'm not holding up very well here, Cas. Every day without Sam, it… Just reminds me a little more of what's happening to him down there, you know?"

He lowered his eyes back down to the glass he was still clutching and watched the remaining liquid slosh back and forth. "And there's nothing I can do to help him. I don't know, sometimes…" He chuckled once again, trying to bury the gut-wrenching agony that was slowly gnawing its way through his insides. "Sometimes I think I'm going crazy."

Dean ground his teeth together, refusing to let his confessions make him even more emotional than he already was. "And I can't take anymore of that, Cas, I just…" He blinked several times, willing the moisture in his eyes to disappear as he raised his gaze to look out the window again. Only when he was completely sure that he was safe from any kind of embarrassing moment, did he speak again.

"Look, I know you well enough to know you won't stand down. You're a fucking stubborn son of a bitch when you've set your head on something." This almost made him smile for a moment as he imagined the angel's stern and determined gaze. "But just so you know… Rolling over and dying is no better."

The hunter hesitated for a moment, giving himself some time to find the words that would make his friend understand. "'Cause if you do that… You let them win," He finally said. "You let them think that none of it really meant anything."

The scenery outside the window was so utterly unchanged, so unaffected by everything that had just happened inside of him that it made Dean wonder if Cas was even out there hearing any of this. But he needed to keep going nonetheless. While he was at it, he needed to get everything off his chest.

"I don't really have a smooth way to say this…" he started again. "But I'm a frickin' mess, man! And… and I don't think I can do this alone. I don't think I can take anyone else dying, you hear me? If that means anything to you… please."

Begging. He had reduced himself to begging now. But somehow he couldn't really care less about that at the moment, because he needed to get everything out. He needed Cas to understand. "I've lost my mom…" he murmured, more to himself as he looked out the window in despair. "I lost my dad… And now I lost Sam."

His eyes somehow found their way back to the spot they had initially been staring at, the spot where he could still remember seeing the well-known blue eyes and familiar trench coat.

"Don't make me lose you too."

In the heavy stillness that settled over the house Dean eventually finished his glass of liquor, waiting vainly for an answer that he knew would not come.

. . .

Silence greeted him, wherever he went. The soft grass beneath his feet made no sound to his steps, as if it had not even noticed his presence. The leaves of the green trees swayed lazily in their nearly windless surroundings. There was nothing he could listen to besides the chaos of his own thoughts.

After all the millennia of his existence during which he had never once doubted heaven to be his true home, Castiel found that this was exactly what he had come to love most. The tranquility. The peace. The blissful stillness. For as corrupt and oppressive a place he had come to see it as after Dean had opened his eyes… that was still a quality heaven had never lacked. No matter how strict or merciless the regime had always been, it was an order of such perfect stability that it could produce nothing but peace.

The angel knew in his heart how wrong this really was, but that knowledge could not extinguish his irrational longing to keep it that way. This was his home, the way he had always known it. Beautiful, peaceful. Eternal. Part of him wanted that dominance and perpetuity that only the old order could offer, for it was the only perspective that offered a familiar outcome.

Alas, his life had ceased to be accessible for all such simplicity from the day on which he had first laid eyes on the righteous man. With what Dean had taught him, it would never matter again how much Castiel desired the comfort of a home he had known and loved for thousands of years… because he would never again be able to turn the other way and be blind to all the wrong that was taking place inside it.

It was almost painful for him to remember that a few weeks ago he had been exhilarated at exactly that fact, the possibility to chose things for himself, the freedom to finally see everything the way he wanted to. But now he found it was mostly just terrifying. For what use was freedom when there was no one to share it with? What use was finding the grand plan when no one wanted to be a part of it?

He was as free and independent as he had never been in all his years of existence… And at the same time he had never felt more alone in his life.

Maybe that was what freedom was. To be alone. Away from home. Away from everything that had ever been familiar to him.

All these thoughts went through Castiel's head as he nostalgically gazed around at the green and tranquil environment of his favorite heaven. He had spent so much time here in all of his long years that it felt like there were memories everywhere he looked. And that filled him with more remorse than little else ever had.

The last time he had decided to turn against his home… it had been a very fast decision. There had been little to no time at all to fully contemplate his decision, he had acted primarily on the instinct that Dean had called forth in him, realizing in that one moment that he was able to tell right from wrong in that situation. But now he still had hours left until he would have to meet his fate. And the worst part was that this time he knew what he was in for. He knew how much he would miss his home, how lonely he would feel, cut off from all his brothers, because he had already gone through that experience once.

It was cruel really. Missing heaven so much and then almost the moment it was returned to him being violently torn away from it once more. He did his best to memorize every blade of grass, every leaf on the trees even though the scenery was already so well known to him that he could never forget it. Because after tomorrow he was sure he was not going to come back to it anytime soon. One way or another.

"Castiel," he suddenly heard a soft call from behind him. The voice came from a woman's vessel and he didn't need to turn around to find out which of his sisters it was; he felt her presence from her grace.

Rachel came to a stop beside him, her grey eyes warm and questioning. "I was hoping I would find you here." She waited for him to respond, but Castiel simply gazed at her in remorse, showing her the soft hint of a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. She only represented one further thing that he would be sorry to leave behind.

"Raphael has called for a full assembly of the Holy Host," Rachel spoke again when she realized that her brother was not about to start the conversation. There was a somewhat confused and uneasy edge to the sound of her voice as she watched Castiel carefully, hoping that he could explain something she had missed.

"That is correct," Castiel responded sadly, feeling a light sting inside him as he was reminded of how little time he had left.

"Castiel," Rachel repeated and it sounded almost like a plea, a helpless question as to why everything was so different than what he had promised upon first returning to heaven. "What is happening? Why is Raphael ignoring you?"

Castiel huffed inwardly at her naïve question. If only it were so; he might have a few more options left. "He is the last archangel left in heaven," he said as if that were all the explanation that were needed.

"But he must know that God brought you back," Rachel continued with nothing but fierce belief within her voice. "He must know that this is what God wants."

Muffling a humorless chuckle, Castiel turned his sad eyes toward her. "I'm not so sure he cares what God wants." He contemplated this for a moment, thinking of what Raphael had said to him that morning.

It's God's will. Because it's what I want.

"I'm not sure it even matters," he sighed, discouraged.

Rachel gave a slight shake of her head, the expression on her face having turned utterly disbelieving. "What's happened to you, Castiel?" she asked sadly. "When you came back you were so… confident. What changed?" It pained him to see how disappointed she looked. The enormous amount of faith she must have had in him… and he had let her down.

"I stuck my tail between my legs," he murmured, dropping his gaze to the ground as he remembered a different set of words that had been thrown at him that day.

"What?" Rachel asked in confusion.

He raised his eyes back off the ground to meet hers, drawing his mind away from the one person he longed to see most at the moment. "Nothing," he said quietly, not knowing what else to say to her despite his wish to make her feel better.

Her grey eyes now seemed even more lost than upon first walking up to him, making him realize that he had just weakened the faith of an untarnished angel much like he himself had once been. Maybe he truly was a bad influence… Maybe every angel who ever believed in him would at some point fall along with him. He could only hope that some of them would eventually see reason, the same as he had. Even if that condemned them as well.

After taking one last look at his surroundings, Castiel turned back to his sister with a kind look on his face. "Come," he said. "It won't be long now."